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SCENES AND MEMORIES 




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SCENES 
AND MEMORIES 



BY 



WALBURGA LADY PAGET 



WITH A PORTRAIT 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

1912 






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PREFACE 

My dear Children, 

The impressions gathered together in this 
book, though written most of them in this last decade, 
are all of them taken from very voluminous recol- 
lections jotted down at a much earlier period. If one 
day any of you think it worth while to publish these 
wider recollections, they will give a true picture of 
the world as it has appeared to me ; for it has, through- 
out, been my aim to give an exact representation of 
my impressions of events, things, and people. That 
will be their only merit. I must explain, however, 
that the last chapter of this book, ' The Mysterious 
City,' which has never been published, is a fantasy 
written to please a friend long since passed away, by 
collating records about some very interesting but 
unknown villas around Florence of which he had 
taken the photographs. The events I allude to are 
all true, and most of them I witnessed myself during 
my frequent and long sojourns in the Mysterious 
City ; it will, however, be readily understood that 
names could not be given, though many of them will 
easily be guessed by those who knew the Florence 
of that day. 



vi PREFACE 

I wish to thank the Editor of the Nineteenth 
Century and After for so courteously allowing articles 
to be reproduced ; and I should like to add a word 
of grateful remembrance to his predecessor, Sir James 
Knowles, a man of singular charm and perspicacity, 
who accorded me the hospitality of the Review he 
founded for thirty years. 

I have nothing more to say except that my life 
has been lived very much in chapters. I gratefully 
record that in each chapter, in many different 
countries, I have found true and faithful friends, 
whose affection has followed me into many chmes 
urtil the thread became invisible to mortal eyes, 
though I feel that it is tightly held by those ' gone 
before to the unknown and silent shore.' 

Perhaps this little book, which speaks of more 
restful days, when charm and romance had not yet 
been throttled in the turmoil of our present era, may 
open a small window in the minds of some younger 
generation to what life held fifty years ago. So 
little in comparison with to-day, and yet so much 
more ! 

Ever, my dear children, 

Your loving 

Mother. 

Unlawater House, 
October 1912. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. A Child's Recollections . . . i 



II, Court and Society at Berlin in the 
Fifties : A Reminiscence 

III. The Empress Frederick in Youth 

IV. A Royal Marriage 

V. Recollections of Copenhagen in the 
Sixties ..... 

VI. Recollections of Portugal in the 
Sixties ..... 

VII. When Florence was the Capital . 

VIII. La Citta Eterna : A Reminiscence of 
the Seventies .... 

IX. Vanishing Vienna : A Retrospect 

X. Brixen and Health 

XI. A Model Republican . 

XII. The Mysterious City . 



27 
62 

lOI 

125 
151 

178 

210 
238 
252 
267 



SCENES AND MEMORIES 



CHAPTER I 

A child's recollections 

It may not be uninteresting in these days, when life is 
such a rush and all that happens is so soon forgotten, 
to retrace the manners, habits, and customs, half a 
century ago, of a society and a country which then 
was, as a whole, hardly in the throes of its birth. The 
Germany of to-day was at that time only the barely 
conceived ideal of a few elect minds. The great masses 
never dreamt of such possibilities. My first recollec- 
tions go back to the early forties ; and though I was a 
very small child then, they are quite clear, and I am 
certain that they are not second-hand, as after the 
death of my parents, which occurred before I was 
grown up, the whole tenor of my life was changed, 
and those I lived with knew nothing of these early 
associations. 

I passed the first years of my life in an ancient castle 
built by Henry the Fowler, Emperor of Germany. It 



2 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

dated back to some time in the ninth century ; but I 
suppose it must have been a strong place even before 
that, as the Romans called it ' Bicheni/ which the 
Wends, on whose frontier it was built, changed later on 
to ' Puechau.' 

The Emperor Henry had placed it there to protect 
the rich bishopric of Wurzen against the incursions of 
the heathen, whom it was his policy to push more and 
more eastwards. 

The part built by the Emperor, and which still 
bears his name, is almost untouched, and stands be- 
yond the moat. The castle itself is a great and 
picturesque irregular pile, romantic and mysterious, 
with inner court and many terraces on different levels 
all around it. 

It stands on an eminence and looks out far over the 
land, over great oak-forests, rich pastures, and winding 
rivers, to a range of blue, once volcanic, hills. Some 
small towns and many villages with glowing red roofs 
and shimmering church spires gleam in the distance, 
and towers built by Romans, Goths, or Markomanns 
command many of the important places. 

We were there in the heart of a very old country, 
which was the centre of Saxony, before some of its best 
provinces were lost by its rulers' weak and francophile 
policy during the Napoleonic wars. 

A deep ravine, spanned by a narrow bridge, almost 
a viaduct, divided the church from the castle, and I 
used on Sundays to stand with my nurse under the 



A CHILD'S RECOLLECTIONS 3 

great horse-chestnuts and watch the castle people walk 
across, two and two ; for there was not room for more 
abreast. They all carried great black hymn-books and 
nosegays, and the women were bareheaded. 

Up the winding road from the village came the 
peasants with their families. The married women still 
wore the richly embroidered caps with flowing ribands 
and the stiff wide Elizabethan ruff. Flowered silk 
handkerchiefs were crossed over their breasts, and the 
large satin aprons trimmed with lace nearly covered 
the whole of their skirts. The girls often wore little 
wreaths of artificial flowers. 

All of them, men and women, young and old, 
brought their posies of bright garden flowers mixed 
with pungent herbs, to keep themselves awake in the 
drowsy summer heat during the long hours of the 
sermon. 

When first I was admitted to church and seated 
on a very high-backed leather-covered chair, all my 
attentipn was absorbed by the monuments of armoured 
knights and farthingaled dames below, and the tre- 
mendous cheeks of puffing seraphs on the bright blue 
cassettone ceiling above. Whatever there was left, was 
devoted to an interminable row of hour-glasses which I 
longed to turn, and which were ranged on a bracket 
against the whitewashed wall. 

Near the church stood the manse, a fine sixteenth- 
century building, grey and severe, with a tall steep roof 
and low rounded porch with stone seats. A trellised 



4 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

walk led from the church to this porch, and on each 
side of it there were great tangles of bright flowers, tall 
hollyhocks and flaming poppies, lilies and roses, with 
borders of mignonette and stocks. 

I remember, as if it were yesterday, seeing for the 
first time our parson's newly married young wife 
standing in that garden. She was a lovely English 
girl, quite young, of the Book of Beauty type. She 
wore a pale green dress, rather transparent, and a fine 
long gold chain round her neck, with glittering rings 
on her fingers. 

The peasants who lived in the village below were all 
very happy and well off. They had great well-built 
houses, cool in summer, warm in winter, under their 
high-tiled roofs, and many maids and serving-men, 
though they themselves and their sons also laboured in 
the fields. They had much cattle in their stables, and 
the wives and daughters and maids looked after that, 
and cooked and baked and washed. During the long 
winter evenings the women all sat together in the great 
warm room, spinning ; whilst the men sang or smoked 
their pipes, sitting on the bench that ran round the 
monumental stoves. 

Behind their houses were great shady orchards with 
tarns and clear wells and rippling rivulets into which 
the sun only shone in the early spring before the leaves 
had come out. I often gazed down from the castle into 
these mysterious shadows ; for out of one of the tarns 
a cry came at times, so strange, so sad and hopeless 



A CHILD'S RECOLLECTIONS 5 

that my imagination was enthralled by it and filled 
by vague and wondrous thoughts, for I was told it 
was the ' Unke ' which called there, a creature never 
seen and which never dies. I believed, like every 
German child, that if undetected at midnight on 
St. John's Eve, I could slip out and spread a blue 
kerchief on the side of the tarn, I should find a little 
golden crown upon it in the morning. 

The castle was, as I have said, very large and 
rambling, with inner and outer courts and towers, and 
long passages filled with armour and pictures of my 
ancestors, which rather frightened me in winter, for 
houses were neither lit nor warmed in those days, and 
that is conducive to fear. 

There was on one side a wide moat without water, 
in which fruit-trees grew. It was carpeted with the 
greenest turf, and the kennels were there. 

We were kept, like most children of that time, under 
strict disciphne, and not allowed to roam beyond the 
sight of nurses or governesses ; and when one day my 
mother, sitting on a terrace close to a court which led 
to the kitchen, told my brother, aged nine or ten, to 
dehver a message to the cook, he said : ' But where is 
the kitchen ? ' 

We children had a wing of the castle set apart for 
us, and no stranger ever penetrated there. We were 
never allowed to speak German, except on the rare 
occasions when we were out of hearing of our 
governesses, of which we always had one English 



6 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

and one French. Only the babies had German nurses. 
As we got older the staff of pedagogues was increased 
by my brothers' tutors, and drawing and music masters, 
and German was allowed at meals. There were al- 
ways many guests, especially in summer, and nobody 
thought it extraordinary that some of them should 
remain for months together. One of them was Mr. 
Evelyn, an Irishman and a great fisherman. He lived 
with us for the best part of the year since I can 
remember, until my father's death. 

One day a Prince and Princess Poniatowski arrived 
for a short visit. She was a very beautiful Irishwoman, 
nee Laura Temple. My parents had known them at 
Dresden, which was at that time full of exiled Poles. 
They remained six or seven months, because they had 
no money to travel with. Mr. Evelyn admired his 
lovely countrywoman, who used to sit beside him when 
he was fishing, as she had nothing else in the world to 
do. I sometimes accompanied them, and though only 
four or five, quite took in the situation and was ex- 
tremely annoyed, as I dishked Princess Poniatowska 
for always wearing my mother's clothes ; and what 
exasperated me beyond expression was her using a 
white moire parasol, with a very long fringe and lined 
with sunset colour, which had come straight from 
Paris. In my baby mind I docketed the Princess as 
what I now know to mean an adventuress. 

My mother had a girl friend, a Countess S , who, 

married to a Russian diplomat at Berlin, did not know 



A CHILD'S RECOLLECTIONS 7 

how to dispose of her summer, so she came with a 
number of children and Russian servants and settled 
at Puechau for six months, till my little brother spoke 
more Russian than German. 

The shootings in those days before the Revolution 
of 1848 were very extensive, for they were not broken 
up, as now, by the peasant properties. The peasants 
owned the land, but had not the right to shoot over it. 
My father, like nearly all Germans of his class, was a 
devoted sportsman, and in autumn and winter we saw 
very little of him, as he used to go off alone or with a 
friend for several weeks together to some of his other 
places to shoot. 

I remember seeing him start for these expeditions in 
what was called a Pirsch-Droschke — a carriage which, I 
suppose, exists no more. It was very light, made to 
go over the worst roads. Always painted and lined 
with green, it had a narrow seat which joined the 
back seat to the box. Astride on this seat one could 
comfortably take rights and lefts without stopping the 
carriage. On the box beside the coachman, in green, 
sat the Leihjdger, liveried in the same colour. These 
men, who exist in every great German or Austrian 
house, are not the usual keepers who live in cottages in 
or near the woods. They live in their master's house 
and attend to his personal wants, accompany- 
ing him wherever he goes. They are often in a 
confidential position, having enjoyed a good educa- 
tion and knowing everything about forestry, which 



8 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

in Germany is a recognised career. As they grow 
older they are generally provided with a good 
situation as head keeper at one of their master's places. 

My mother also moved about a good deal. Brought 
up amongst the mountains of Silesia, she longed for the 
hills when the great heats of summer came. There 
were hardly any railways in Germany then, and we 
travelled in a huge Berline, to which (I heard my 
mother's maid say) there were twenty-nine boxes 
attached. They each of them had their separate place 
into which they fitted. On the best of roads this enor- 
mous machine required four horses to pull it, and in 
hilly countries we always had six. There was room for 
six inside, but I never remember going more than four, 
for we often posted all night, and my brother and I 
regularly went to bed, whilst my mother and Miss Page, 
the nursery governess, sat on the other seat. The maid 
and footman sat in the dickey. We travelled all over 
Germany in this way, and to Belgium, Holland, and 
even to Poland. 

My father went every summer, as most people in 
society did in those days, to Carlsbad or Marienbad, and 
sometimes we accompanied him. These places were 
at that time very select, and the resort of crowned 
heads, ministers, and diplomatists, and all that was 
best in European society. Everybody knew who 
everybody else was, and all consorted together on 
a footing of dignified intimacy unknown to our 
days. French was the language which was generally 



A CHILD'S RECOLLECTIONS 9 

spoken, and all wrote it fluently and correctly. Good 
manners, ease, and gaiety were the prevailing features. 

Thus it happened that, even as a small child, I was 
quite familiar with the great names of England, France, 
Russia, and Austria, as I heard them continually 
mentioned in conversation, and knew many of their 
bearers by sight as friends of my parents. 

Diplomats, in those days, could not go home every 
year as they do now, and many of them visited us in 
the summer and autumn. The Court of Dresden was 
then a much-coveted post, and Puechau was in easy 
reach, as the first railway that was built in Germany 
went from Dresden to Leipzig, and passed within five 
miles of us. 

I remember especially the Marquis d'£ragues, 
Louis Philippe's envoy. A sympathetic interest was 
attached to his pretty wife, who had been the heroine 
of a tragic cause celebre in which she had shown a 
courage and devotion which might have ruined her 
whole life. She used to wear long Book of Beauty 
ringlets, and her two little daughters were my bosom 
friends. Then there was Mr. Forbes, who remained as 
H.B.M.'s Minister at Dresden for nearly forty years. 
He used to come accompanied by his two sisters. 
The elder. Lady Adelaide, a fat and jolly red-faced old 
lady, had been Byron's lanthe when his years ' nearly 
doubled ' hers. No trace was left of lanthe ; but to 
my childish imagination the admiration of the great 
poet surrounded her for ever with a halo of beauty. 



10 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

We were at a very early age initiated to the classic 
literature of England and France, and knew it better 
than the German, because this — Schiller excepted — was 
too abstruse, and Goethe was not allowed. There were 
only few children's books then, except fairy tales ; and 
illustrated papers, the ruin of the children of to-day, 
did not exist. Before I was seven, I fell rapaciously 
on TeUmaque, and repeated pages of Racine and 
Corneille by heart. A little later on Walter Scott and 
Dickens, Cooper, Mrs. Beecher Stowe, which were all 
in easy reach as they were published by Tauchnitz at 
Leipzig, excited my deepest interest ; and before I was 
fifteen I had read all the English classics, nor was that 
exceptional, as all the girls who were fond of reading 
did the same. 

Things are quite changed now that the national 
feeling is so strong. German children do not speak 
French and English with the fluency and ease so 
common in former days, nor are they so much at home 
in the literature of foreign countries. They are also less 
cosmopolitan and polished than we were, though they 
may know more in other special hues, and will probably 
develop into much cleverer men and women than we 
have become. 

Ancient history, especially that of Greece, always 
so attractive to the German mind, we knew thoroughly, 
and the wars of the Greeks and Trojans appeared to us 
as occurrences of yesterday. We were thus enabled 
to understand and enter into the spirit of the Iliad 



A CHILD'S RECOLLECTIONS ii 

and the Odyssey, and to see their heroes as Hving 
characters. 

Young as we were, the poHtics of the day, which my 
father frequently discussed before us, aroused our 
lively interest. My father sat in the first or hereditary 
chamber, and was an eloquent speaker with a profound 
and intuitive insight into coming events. He 
predicted in speeches still remembered — and at the 
time of Germany's greatest disruption, feebleness, 
and humiliation — its gradual development, its coming 
power, and glorious future. 

He was a Conservative with liberal ideas, and also 
deeply interested in social questions, and used among 
other things often to refer to the Malthusian theories 
which made such a stir in Europe. He little thought 
that there was a small mite of seven listening with all 
her ears, and whose hair actually stood on end at the 
idea that the world was becoming so over-populated 
that there would soon be no room to lie down, and 
everybody would have to stand up. 

The decay of the Church in Germany also pre- 
occupied my father much. He had been a good deal 
in England, and was persuaded that the reason why the 
religious question there was so alive and actual, was 
because the clergy were mainly gentlemen, highly 
educated, who were socially on a par with the best in 
the land, and thus were able to influence all the classes. 
I often heard him say that if another son were born to 
him he should go into the Church. This would have 



12 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

been an unheard-of thing in Germany, and showed how 
much he had this question at heart. 

The German clergy were, however, as a rule, well 
educated as far as science and learning went. In all 
great houses the tutors of the boys, before they went 
to public schools, were Candidaten — young men who 
had been ordained and were waiting for livings. 

My father, who had between twenty and thirty 
livings in his gift, often assembled the most learned of 
his clergymen around him, and the conversation was 
frequently carried on in Latin, which they as well as my 
father spoke quite fluently. My father also resorted 
to Latin when speaking to his friends of things I was 
not to understand, quite forgetting that the smattering 
I had acquired in the Latin lessons I shared with my 
brother enabled me to gather the sense of all that he 
said. 

I . think people never remember sufficiently how 
much small children really do understand and notice. 
Few remember now the famous proces of the Due de 
Praslin, who murdered his wife a year or two before the 
Revolution of 1848. The account of it was pubhshed 
in a French pamphlet, which my mother read out to her 
sister whilst she was painting. I was sitting on the 
floor cutting out pictures. I did not lose a single word ; 
I was deeply interested, and remember most of the 
details to this day. 

The aunt just referred to was my mother's eldest 
sister, an old maid full of character and with a good deal 



A CHILD'S RECOLLECTIONS 13 

of cleverness. She remembered all about the Napo- 
leonic wars, and inspired me with a fine hatred of the 
' Corsican brigand.' My mother's father was one of 
the men best hated by Napoleon, because he had held 
the only Prussian fortress which never surrendered. I 
remember on great occasions a set of fine damask 
tablecloths being used, with an inscription woven 
into them from ' The grateful citizens of Colberg ' for 
having preserved their town from the invader. It 
was he also who later on planned the junction of the 
Prussians with Wellington at Waterloo, and who, not 
only as a soldier but as a politician, had always opposed 
the French influence which had for 200 years crippled 
German development, and which, during the first 
years of the nineteenth century, exercised so baneful 
an influence over the weak and vacillating king, and 
through him on the fortunes of Prussia. 

I did not wonder that nearly all the conversation 
was carried on in French in deference to our many 
foreign guests, and also I vaguely realised that it was 
la langue dij)lomatique, which had to be kept up at any 
cost ; but when the village people, especially the old 
men and women, interlarded their remarks with French 
words, it roused my indignation. They had been young 
during the French occupation, and the two places we 
lived at most were on the very edge of the great battle- 
fields around Leipzig. Many of the villagers had seen 
Napoleon and his generals : the Emperor had passed 
through the place and dined at the castle. Marshal Ney 



14 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

had slept for six weeks in my room, and Marmont was 
quartered close by. I knew that the country had 
suffered inexpressibly during those wars, though I did 
not then realise that the reason why the trees of all the 
avenues were so small was because they had been cut 
doMoi, and the houses were so bare because they had all 
been plundered and robbed. 

My paternal grandfather owned large tracts of the 
country around Leipzig and many houses in the town, 
and my father remembered, when he was quite small, 
Napoleon visiting his young and pretty mother, who 
had fled into the town and was the great lady there. 
He said the Emperor wore a black coat with frogs, and 
was not unamiable, for at that moment, just after 
the battle of Jena, the Saxons were his allies. My 
grandfather, however, was a patriot and loathed this 
unnatural alliance ; and before the battle of Leipzig he 
retired to his country place, ordering his agent, whom 
he left in town, to make a feu de joie in case of success of 
a copse of very fine old oaks which grew upon a knoll 
and could be seen for many miles over the flat country. 
However, when the battle was won, the agent thought 
it a pity to set fire to the old oaks, and there they stand 
to this day. 

Before my days of lessons began I used to accom- 
pany my parents to some of their other places, and 
delightful pictures of them still float in my mind. I 
remember especially a big sort of palace where there 
were many functions. It stood on the margin of a 



A CHILD'S RECOLLECTIONS 15 

lake, on marshy ground. The rooms were large and 
bare, with stuccoed ceilings ; but what endeared it par- 
ticularly to me was that my English nurse on Sunday 
morning took me into the kitchen, a place I had never 
seen, and taught me to make a plum pudding. 

Then we went to a great castle high up in the 
mountains. It was situated on the watershed between 
Saxony and Bohemia, and a small town clustered 
round its giant walls. It had been partially abandoned, 
but the arched ceilings and great halls beautifull}^ 
carved with rich ornament excited my mother's ad- 
miration, and she wished to restore it as an ideal summer 
residence, for it was in the midst of immense fir-woods 
and 2500 feet above the sea. We visited various other 
places ; but the one I loved best was not far from 
Dresden, beyond the valley of Tharand. My mother 
took us children there sometimes for a few days in May. 
It was a little whitewashed castle, with round towers 
and pointed red-brick roofs. It stood on the side of a 
valley overhung by lovely woods. All around it was 
a carpet of the greenest finest grass, intersected with 
small rivulets bubbling over silvery sand and enamelled 
with buttercups, daisies, forget-me-nots, primroses, and 
violets in such luxuriance as I have never seen since. 

In the autumn we nearly always moved to a place 
not far distant from Puechau, but where the shooting 
was particularly good. The house had been built by a 
favourite of Augustus the Strong, Elector of Saxony, 
and later King of Poland. The Elector eventually 



i6 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

beheaded the favourite, who is supposed to walk about 
with his head under his arm. The house, which was 
only inhabited for a few weeks every year, had big halls 
and staircases, and was hung with many pictures of the 
royal Saxon family. It was very cold, for the walls 
were not six or seven feet thick as at Puechau, and I 
trembled with fear and cold if after dark I had to go to 
a distant part. The country around was flat, with a 
river winding through meadows, and dark fir-woods 
which stretched as far as one could see gave it a melan- 
choly beauty. Here my father's woods marched with 
Crown property, all forest, which extends to a distance 
of more than forty miles. This is what is called the 
' Wittenberger Heide,' and it takes two days to ride 
through it. Only one little inn stands in the middle of 
the forest ; besides that, there are no other habitations 
of any sort. 

As the year '48 approached, and signs of unrest 
began among the people, we moved about less, and 
Puechau, which in itself was a strong place, was further 
fortified with iron doors and shutters, for hordes of 
rabble led by agitators roamed about the country, 
burning and sacking the houses of the aristocracy. 
Not far from us Prince Schoenburg's fine place was burnt 
to the ground and several others. My father had the 
peasants drilled so as to be able to defend the village, 
and our walks were limited to the gardens, for the 
country was overrun by vagabonds. 

My parents were much beloved by all around them, 



A CHILD'S RECOLLECTIONS 17 

yet there were many acts of petty spite, and the thing 
which hurt my father most was the maiming of the 
splendid white stag and hinds (red deer, and very rare) 
which the King had given him. I used often from my 
tower window to watch, in the summer evenings, a herd 
of deer swimming through the lake below : the stately 
white stag with his two hinds, always a little apart 
from the others, shimmered golden in the setting sun. 

We used every other year to spend the winter in 
Dresden. When we returned there after the Revolution, 
we found all our cots riddled with bullets, for in front 
of our house there had been a barricade and the hottest 
fighting, as the ' Turnerhaus,' a students' club, was just 
opposite. My father, who had returned to Dresden 
when the fighting began, said the dead lay in piles of 
six and seven before our door. Our house was a fine 
old one, with a large garden at the back, which joined 
on to the ' Promenade ' that extends to the far-famed 
Bruehlsche Terrasse, the rendezvous of the best society. 
We were taken there daily by our governesses, and 
walked two and two very smartly dressed, like well 
brought up children. One day, when I was only four 
or five, my father said he would take me out. I was 
somewhat frightened at the unwonted honour, and 
just before reaching the Bruehlsche Terrasse, at a 
place where there were some arches in the wall, he 
stopped, and pointing to a tall lady who, accompanied 
by a gentleman, was coming towards us, said : ' Let 
us hide and surprise mamma.' The lady wore a lilac 



i8 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

bonnet and dress with a green cloak — a costume I had 
often seen my mother in. 

We squeezed back into the arch, and at the moment 
the lady came up we rushed out upon her — I with a 
shrill scream of delight. What, however, was my dis- 
may when, clinging to the lady's knees, I looked up into 
the face of a stranger, and I saw my father, hat in hand, 
making profound bows and uttering a string of excuses. 
The lady laughed and kissed me and picked up my 
glove, which in my fright I had dropped on the snow, 
and put it on for me. Both the gentlemen and lady 
seemed to be much amused. My father told me 
afterwards that they were the King and Queen. 

My father was on a very good and intimate footing 
with the King, and when the troublous times came he 
supported him with moral influence and material help. 
He was therefore deeply disappointed when the King 
weakly fled from Dresden, leaving it a prey to disorder 
and dissension. From this time my father inclined 
more and more to Prussia, where he also had large 
estates, for he saw in Prussia's ascendancy the only 
chance of saving Germany. 

I often went to Court in my infantine days, for 
Prince John, the King's brother, had a number of 
children. 

There were six princesses, but a melancholy destiny 
seemed to brood over their fates. They were all good- 
looking, and some of them beautiful. The eldest, bom 
an idiot, died as a girl of typhus. The second and only 



A CHILD'S RECOLLECTIONS 19 

surviving daughter is the Duchess of Genoa, the mother 
of Queen Margaret of Italy. I remember her, a tall, fair, 
distinguished-looking girl, on the eve of her marriage 
bending over a sofa on which were seated her mother, 
the Princess John of Saxony, together with her twin 
sister, Elisabeth, Queen of Prussia, and kissing their 
hands. Then came Sidonie, very handsome and an 
angel of goodness ; she refused the Emperor Napoleon 
the Third, as her aunt, another Sidonie, whom I re- 
member as a little crippled old lady, refused Napoleon 
the First. She also died of typhoid. Anne, the fourth 
and loveliest, with a throat like a swan, passed a year 
or two of sad married life in Tuscany, and died, it is 
said, of neglect after her child was born. Her mother- 
in-law, the reigning Grand Duchess, did not care for 
her. After her came Margaret, my friend. We were 
of the same age and devoted to each other. She 
married quite young the Archduke Charles Louis, and 
a few months afterwards she died of typhoid at Monza, 
whilst on a visit to her brother-in-law, the unfortunate 
Archduke Maximilian, who at that time was Viceroy 
of Lombardy. Sophia, the youngest daughter, also 
succumbed to typhoid, as well as her young sister-in- 
law, an Infanta of Portugal. 

Dresden was a merry place for children, and we had 
many balls, at which we acquitted ourselves well, for 
most of us had been taught dancing by the great Tag- 
lioni. She was then a little old lady, in a shortish black 
silk dress with a white fichu, very thin and wizen> 



20 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

and with extremely neat and agile feet. A child's ball 
then was not a disorderly or aimless affair. We were 
under strict discipline the whole time, and knew exactly 
what to do. I was terrified one da}^ at committing the 
unpardonable breach of etiquette of having given the 
same dance to two boys. They were much older than 
myself, and I nearly fainted with fright when they 
intimated that they would go and fight it out at once. 
It had, however, no more tragic consequence than 
a bleeding nose. 

Talking of Taglioni puts me in mind of the great 
interest everybody, children included, took in great 
dancers. The ballets were then poems or fairy tales 
expressed by dance and pantomime. They had a 
definite story with a hero and heroine, and grace and 
beauty was what was sought, not effect. Lucile Graan 
danced for one winter at Dresden, and we children 
were enthusiastic at the spirituality (I can find no 
other word) of her interpretation, and amongst our 
elders she was a constant topic of conversation. 

My father always had a team of golden chestnut 
mares, which were called by the names of celebrated 
dancers. Cerrito, Taglioni, Fanny Elssler, Carlotta 
Grisi, and so on. 

Odd as it may seem, our French nursery governess 
was an intimate friend of Terese Elssler, the sister of 
the famous Fanny, the friend of Frederic von Gentz, 
and the greatest dancer of her day. Terese had been a 
dancer also, but highly respectable. I can now see her 



A CHILD'S RECOLLECTIONS 21 

and Susette Blanc eating cakes together and drinking 
coffee, Terese in a grey silk dress and a neat white 
cap with frills all around her face. 

Passionately fond as I always was of fresh air and 
the open country, the long dark winters of Central Ger- 
many were a penance to me, shut up in a town where 
an hour's walk, if the weather was propitious, was all 
we got. My pleasantest recollections are of our walks 
in early spring through the fields, to the Grosse Garten, 
a royal palace about two miles from the town. During 
these walks the air appeared to me nectar, soft and 
balmy. Underfoot the anemones and primroses peeped 
out of the mossy grass. Overhead I saw the pinkish 
buds of shrubs and trees, and all around I felt the subtle 
intoxicating scent of the moist earth awakening to the 
warmth of returning spring. My French governess 
kept on chattering about Paris clothes and Paris 
theatres, but I was with the lovely women and stately 
cavaliers who had sat in the outdoor theatres cut out 
of hornbeam, in which we were standing, listening to a 
French play, or going through the mazes of a minuet in 
yonder attractive and rather frivolous-looking palace 
erected by the magnificent but incorrect Augustus the 
Strong. 

Dresden was always full of foreigners, especially 
Poles, who were attracted to it by former ties. Many 
of the great Polish ladies were very beautiful, and they 
all wore their country's mourning — a black dress with 
a wide white band at the edge of the skirt. When 



22 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

quite small I was taught to say tons Us Ski sont des 
braves et toutes les Ska sont des belles, and I religiously- 
believed it. 

Dresden was famous for its shops, especially china, 
linen, jewellery, and laces. The King and Queen, the 
Princesses, and any foreign potentates who might be 
there, spent a good deal of time shopping, just like any 
other mortals, and I remember, when accompanying 
my mother, frequently meeting some of them there. 

Dresden was not a healthy place in those days : it 
was badly drained, like all German towns, or not 
drained at all. My mother had, however, very advanced 
ideas of hygiene, and put us under the care of Dr. Wolff, 
the most eminent homoeopath of that day and the 
favourite pupil of Hahnemann. Dr. Wolff was not 
only a great physician, but a charming man and a great 
philosopher. He paid my mother frequent visits in 
the country, and encouraged her to bring us up under 
what we should now call the Kneipp system. We ran 
about without shoes or stockings in the grass, we wore a 
minimum of clothes ; in summer we were plunged into 
the river, a wide and rushing mountain stream ; in 
winter we had to break the ice in our tubs, and our 
nurses dashed basins of icy water over our backs. I 
can still feel the thin bits of ice mixed with the water 
slithering down over me. A fire in our bedrooms was 
never thought of, and the schoolroom was never more 
than nine degrees Reaumur (fifty-two Fahrenheit). 

I was fourteen or fifteen before I knew wjiat it was 



A CHILD'S RECOLLECTIONS 23 

to have something to drink at breakfast, as I did not 
like milk. Bread, with a little butter, was all I ever 
had. An egg for a child, if it was not ill, was con- 
sidered quite absurd. Between meals we were given 
abundance of fruit — even during the years the cholera 
devastated Germany this allowance was not curtailed. 
We seemed all to do very well on this regime ; but 
I wonder what a child of the present day would 
think of it ! 

When we were at Puechau it was usually the village 
barber, Berthold, who attended to any of our little ills. 
This man, from seeing people being born and dying 
continually, had acquired the most wonderful insight, 
and. aided by natural intuition, he rarely made a mis- 
take. He cured generally with what are called old 
women's remedies. He belonged to a race now almost 
extinct, for too much science kills instinct, and curing 
is an art and not a science, so Professor Schwenninger, 
Prince Bismarck's famous doctor and friend, assured us 
only the other day in his profound and witty book ' The 
Physician.' It was not the fashion in those days for 
people who had large houses of their own to pay visits, 
but once in two years we were taken to see our cousins, 
a pleasure which was looked forward to for many weeks 
before, for excepting these two or three days we never 
had a hoUday all the year round except Sundays, and 
Christmas, and Easter Day. 

Before my lessons began I was sometimes taken 
to the great Easter Fair at Leipzig, It lasted, I believe, 



24 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

three weeks, and was world famous : the great mart of 
exchange for all countries. We used to start in the 
dark, for it was a twenty-mile drive, and got for break- 
fast to my grandmother who had a house at Leipzig. 
The whole picturesque old town was filled with booths, 
and the narrow thoroughfares seethed with a motley 
crowd shimmering in every colour of the rainbow. 
There were Russians and Poles with their furs, Turks 
with carpets, Armenians, Chinese, Arabs, Japanese, 
Negroes, Italians, and Greeks, all in their national 
costumes. The booths were piled with foreign wares ; 
panoramas, tight-rope dancers, merry-go-rounds, and 
musicians took up every other available space. 

There were circuses for the children in the daytime 
and theatres for the grown-up people at night, and 
celebrated actors and even stars like Rachel and 
Dejaset came from Paris. People flocked into town 
from country houses to hear them, for the generation 
of that day still had the French tradition. 

Christmas is, however, for every German child the 
pinnacle of the year. It is not only a time full of the 
intensest expectation and excitement, but it is very 
holy and mystical. The Kristkindchen sheds its halo 
over every child. If on Christmas Eve you look 
through the curtainless windows of the poorest 
labourer's cottage, you will see a little Christmas-tree 
lit up and adorned for the children. 

For weeks beforehand my mother, our governesses, 
and any lady guests there might be, were employed in 



A CHILD'S RECOLLECTIONS 25 

mysterious work shut up in jealously closed rooms. We 
children passed the long winter evenings in gilding 
apples and nuts, and cutting out ornaments in many- 
tinted papers for the Christmas-tree. Everything was 
made at home, and therefore more precious. My 
mother, who was the moving spirit in all these 
preparations, observed absolute silence ; but she went 
to town for two or three days and returned with a 
carriage piled with parcels. It was, I believe, on one 
of these expeditions that the coachman, as it got dark, 
lost his way in the snow. My mother, perceiving a 
signpost at some little distance, sent the footman to 
read the directions. This man, very stalwart and 
rather illiterate, did not succeed in doing so, and 
uprooting the signpost carried it to the carriage door 
for my mother to read. 

The village people and the servants had their trees 
before we had ours, and everybody received a present 
adapted to their wants and their wishes ; not the least 
of them was forgotten. The guests, too, had each a 
remembrance, pretty or useful as the case might be. 
I remember one year when my mother's ingenuity 
was particularly taxed to find the right things, as the 
Prussian army had been mobilised, and we, being at 
one of my father's Prussian places, had for five or six 
weeks over thirty officers quartered in the house. The 
great ball-room was made into a wood of fir-trees with 
one very large one in the middle. They were all 
covered with glittering fruit and coloured devices, and 



26 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

lit with hundreds of wax tapers. This was the last 
Christmas in one of our beloved homes, so soon and so 
sadly to be broken up. 

As I look back it seems to me that life in those days 
was so simple, so ample, so dignified. There was 
breathing time and space, and people grasped events ; 
whilst now they seem to slip through their fingers and 
their thoughts. There were no telegrams, no telephones, 
no electricity, no bicycles or motors — such things had 
never been thought of ; and when an old woman in the 
village prophesied just before her death that carriages 
would run on the roads without horses, and people fly 
along on a wheel as fast as trains went (in those days), 
everybody said she was mad. 

I hear people now talking of communicating with 
Mars. Are they so very mad as we think ? 

My only excuse for recalling these childish, and I 
fear too personal, memories is that they refer to a time 
already so far distant that very few remember it, and 
a younger generation may be amused and astonished 
that once there were those who lived with so little 
excitement and yet were quite happy and contented. 



CHAPTER II 

COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN IN THE FIFTIES: 
A REMINISCENCE 

It was soon after the death of the Emperor Nicholas 
the First, on the 2nd of March 1855, that I first went 
to Hve at Beriin. 

The Court, the Army, and a great section of Prus- 
sian society were still under the impression of this 
event, rendered more tragic by the belief that the 
great White Czar's end had been hastened by the 
Russian reverses in the Crimea — reverses which had 
broken his heart. 

The Emperor Nicholas had married a Prussian 
Princess, the beautiful daughter of the beautiful and 
unhappy Queen Louise. She was the sister of the 
King (Frederick William the Fourth), and the brother 
she resembled most was the chivalrous Prince of 
Prussia. 

This Prince, who later became the Emperor William 

the First, and his Consort, a Princess of Saxe- Weimar 

and own niece to the Czar, were very liberal-minded. 

They aloiie sympathised with what were called in 

27 



28 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

those days the ' Western Powers,' and I remember 
Lady Bloomfield, whose husband was at that time 
British Minister at Berhn, telhng me that hardly 
anybody would speak to them at that time except 
the Prince and Princess of Prussia. 

As this Royal couple were not popular in Berlin, 
they only rarely inhabited their palace ' Unter den 
Linden.' The Prince moved about a good deal, and 
the Princess divided her time between Coblentz, where 
she was much beloved, and Baden-Baden, where she 
assembled around her a literary, artistic, and cosmo- 
politan society. 

The King and Queen lived much at their favourite 
palace of Sans-Souci, near Potsdam. Built by Frederick 
the Great in a most ornate Louis the Fifteenth style, 
it was with its terraces, fountains, and avenues of noble 
trees an ideal summer residence. During the coldest 
winter months their Majesties inhabited the ancient and 
stately Schloss at Berlin, which was, and many say still 
is, haunted by the white lady, an ancestress of the 
HohenzoUerns. 

King Frederick William the Fourth had been a 
very charming and witty man, but his brilliant intellect 
was then already beginning to wane under the influence 
of the long and insidious malady to which he eventually 
succumbed. 

The fears of those who surrounded the King were 
hardly whispered ; but I remember that one day, when 
I had gone to an exhibition of modern pictures with my 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 29 

governess, he approached me, making some remarks 
about the paintings ; but his tongue did not obey his 
will, and I was quite unable to understand what he 
meant. 

In contrast to the King's sedate and somewhat 
severe entourage, his second brother. Prince Charles, held 
a brilliant Court. Married to the handsome elder 
sister of the Princess of Prussia, who was fond of splen- 
dour and amusements, they both took care to surround 
themselves with men who were dandies and sportsmen 
and ladies who were pretty, lively, and fashionable. The 
Princess was an inveterate theatre-goer, and accom- 
plished the wonderful feat of seeing during one winter 
the then famous ballet, ' Flick and Flock/ 123 times 
consecutively. 

A fourth brother of the King, Prince Albrecht, also 
lived at Berlin ; he was separated from his wife, a 
Princess of the Netherlands, and besides him there were 
only two or three unmarried Princes, distant cousins of 
the Sovereign, who led retired lives in their palaces, 
devoting themselves to art or science. Berlin at that 
time was a very small and simple town compared with 
its present splendour and expansion. Now it is perhaps 
the best-cared-for capital in the world ; then, it had 
open gutters which were often very unsavoury. Few 
great families had houses of their own, and still fewer 
ever opened them. 

Two Princes Radziwill inhabited a dignified palace, 
entre cour et jardin, in the Wilhelmsstrasse, one of the 



30 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

most aristocratic streets. Over the door was written 
up ' Hotel de Radziwill.' The family was Polish, but 
the mother of the two brothers had been a Princess of 
Prussia and sister of the chivalrous Prince Ferdinand, 
and therefore related to the Royal Family. 

They had married two sisters, daughters of Prince 
Clary, a Bohemian noble, and they each lived in a wing 
of the Palace, filling it with innumerable children. 
Their train de maison was patriarchal and simple, and 
they received only in a quiet and unobtrusive way. 

Amongst the really Prussian families the Arnims 
were perhaps the most typical. They had a fine house, 
in which they lived in a kind of ascetic state. Tall, fair, 
stiff, aristocratic-looking, and caustic, they were a little 
difficult of approach, but upright and honourable in 
the extreme ; they were excellent when one knew 
them well. 

Not being a Prussian myself, and living with my 
guardian, who was a diplomat, and also being too young 
to be out, I never saw but one Prussian salon from the 
inside, and that was a Very remarkable one. The 
mistress of it was the still very beautiful Countess 
Lottum. She was well past fifty in those days, but I 
think I never saw such extraordinary outward refine- 
ment. She attached the greatest importance to dress, 
and succeeded in turning herself out in the most 
finished and attractive way. Her apartment was as 
perfect as herself, in the Parisian Louis the Fifteenth 
taste, and at a time when the average house was decked 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 31 

out, to its mistress's entire satisfaction, in mahogany 
and blue Utrecht velvet with a gum-tree in the corner, 
that meant a good deal of initiative. 

Only a very few ladies and all the most brilliant 
men frequented Countess Lottum's salon. She never 
asked girls ; and the reason why I was taken there was 
because her lovely niece Wanda, who married a little 
later on Prince Putbus, her cousin, was my only and 
very intimate friend. 

My guardian, who was also my uncle, being my 
father's youngest brother, was married to a lady who 
held at that time one of the greatest positions at Berlin, 
and though I was still in the schoolroom I was allowed 
to sit behind the tea-table (after dinner) when my aunt 
received every evening in what was called the avant 
soiree from nine o'clock till eleven. 

The whole of the Diplomatic Corps, distinguished 
foreigners, and many of the gentlemen and ladies 
attached to the different Courts used to drop in, and I 
cannot remember an evening when somebody did not 
come. In spring the ladies often appeared in smart 
bonnets after a drive in the Thiergarten, for the latest 
dinner-hour was half-past six. 

My aunt was a beautiful needlewoman, and whoever 
came she never quitted her embroidery-frame. I, too, 
had my work, to which I was supposed to attend if 

nobody spoke to me. Mile, de W , a former 

lady-in-waiting of my aunt, who lived on in her 
house, dispensed the tea. 



32 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

My aunt when she married my uncle was the widow 
of one of the last Prince Electors of Germany. Her 
husband, who was old, had surrounded his young and 
pretty wife with great splendour and luxury. She had 
great taste in dress and in arranging her house, and had 
many beautiful and costly things about her. She kept 
up a semi-royal state and habits and knew the whole 
of the cosmopolitan world of that day. 

It was a wonder that, though my aunt never made 
any calls, except on the very greatest personages, and 
rarely appeared anywhere except at Court, her salon 
should have been so popular and sought after, but 
she had created for herself quite an exceptional 
position. 

Though there were in those days no Ambassadors 
at Berlin, the diplomats formed the chief feature of 
society. The foreign Ministers were expected to receive 
a great deal, and they gave many balls and dinners. 
Many of them were still comparatively young men and 
glad to amuse themselves. Just opposite to us was the 
French Legation, filled at that time by the Marquis de 
Moustier. He had a great position, chiefly owing to 
the anxiety his master inspired. I shall never forget the 
agitation and excitement of the Court and society 
during a short visit of Prince Napoleon (Plon-Plon) to 
BerHn. He Hved at the Legation, and I saw him out 
of my window, driving up and down the perron of the 
house, fat, dark, and scowhng. It was amusing to hear 
of the trouble everybody was taking to be sufficiently 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 33 

civil, without dropping too much of their conscience 
and dignity. 

To the French Legation belonged a lady, the Mar- 
quise de Malaret, one of the Empress Eugenie's ladies. 
She was even in Paris a grande elegante, and besides she 
was clever, witty, and a thorough woman of the world. 
Some years later King Victor Emmanuel saw her, and 
was so pleased with her conversation that he insisted 
upon her husband being named as Minister to Turin. 
I had only been a few days at Berhn when my aunt 
sent for me one morning to present me to this lady. 
She was for those days very tall and had a Calmuck 
face. She talked loud and incessantly, but was natural 
and amusing. She wore the lately invented monster, 
a very large crinoline, and over it was stretched an 
extremely tight black silk skirt. 

One had to be very beautiful indeed to hold one's 
own dressed in the ugly fashions of those days. They 
might perhaps have been made a little more palatable 
by clever Parisian dressmakers, but on the ordinary 
person they were truly ghastly. There is a curious 
tendency amongst young painters of the present day 
to revive the crinoline in their pictures, as something 
poetic and mysterious, but in reality, and in everyday 
life, it was a very ugly thing. 

The Russian Legation, which played a great 
part, was housed in the fine palace ' Unter den 
Linden,' It belonged to the Russian Government, 
and was in reality an hotel for Russian Grand Dukes, 



34 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

who were always passing forwards and backwards 
through BerHn. 

Baron Budberg, the Russian Minister, was a clever 
but somewhat sarcastic man. Some of the ladies 
belonging to the Legation were very beautiful, like 
Countess Shouvalow and Baroness Mohrenheim ; but 
the one who had the greatest position and whom I 
frequently saw at my aunt's receptions was Countess 
Adlerberg, the wife of the Military Attache. Though 
no more young she was still very handsome and ex- 
tremely witty. I heard her say one evening of a lady's 
dress, who was proud of her feet and shoulders and 
showed them a Httle too much : * Cela commence trop 
tard et cela iinit trop tot.' She was much choyee by the 
Prussian Court, for she was supposed to be a daughter 
of a sister of Queen Louise ; and though this relationship 
was not officially recognised, it was tacitly admitted — 
indeed, the likeness between Countess Adlerberg and 
some of the Prussian Princes could leave but little 
doubt. The thing which interested me most in this 
lady was that she had been first married to M. de 
Kruedener, the son of the famous Madame de 
Kruedener, whose psychic and occult powers and great 
influence on the Emperor Alexander the First made 
her name so celebrated at the beginning of the last 
century. 

The Comte de Launay, who was for thirty years at 
first Sardinian and then Italian Minister at BerHn, was 
married to a lady much older than himself ; but 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 35 

she had a most beautiful and gifted daughter by her 
first marriage, Mile, de Seigneux, who was immensely 
admired. To me she appeared, with her Grecian 
profile, long waved golden hair, and enchanting ways, 
a very ' Lorelei.' 

It was during those evenings in my aunt's drawing- 
room that I made some lifelong friendships, now alas ! 
ended, at least for this world. One of the fastest and 
most uninterrupted ones was that with Count Kalnoky, 
later on Austrian Ambassador in Rome and Petersburg, 
and for a long time Minister for Foreign Affairs at 
Vienna. Another was Count Ferdinand Trauttmanns- 
dorff, who after a short and brilliant diplomatic career 
became Great Chamberlain to the Emperor of Austria. 
He was even in those early days a most magnificent and 
dignified personage, whose rather pompous ways were 
tempered by the kindest heart. 

Some of the young princes, such as Prince William 
of Baden, who were quartered at Berlin or Potsdam, 
also frequently came to pass an hour before a ball or 
gay supper party; but as my uncle was ' Westmachtlich 
gesinnt ' (a sympathiser with the Western Powers), it 
was natural that he and my aunt should have seen but 
little of the purely Prussian society. 

I had when first I arrived been much struck with 
the very military aspect of the city. Whether one 
drove ' Unter den Linden ' or rode in the Thiergarten, 
there were uniforms everywhere. Half the population 
seemed to consist of tall, flat-backed, square-shouldered 

D 2 



36 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

officers, with light-blue eyes and sweeping blonde 
moustaches. They wore the large-topped cap affected 
by the Russian Army, and their big sabres clanked by 
their sides. 

In the spring the Thiergarten, though far less well 
kept than it is now, was a great resource, and the 
beau monde used to drive there after dinner. At the 
beginning of June, however, the great heat drove 
everybody into the country. Our summers were 
generally spent at my uncle's place in Saxony, and 
the early autumns at Pisely, in Bohemia, which 
belonged to my aunt. 

I don't think I cared much for the latter place, as, 
on account of the wildness of the surroundings, my 
usual walks, which were my only pleasure, were much 
circumscribed. 

Knauthayn, my uncle's place in Saxony, had more 
charms for me than Bohemia. The country, though 
flat, was all meadow, river, and oak woods. The house, 
which had been built for a bet by a M. de Dieskau in the 
seventeenth century, had I don't know how many 
stories, and looked like the beginning of a tower of 
Babel, the object of the builder having been to make it 
as high as possible. 

Unfortunately my uncle had in his bachelor days 
filled up the moat, which detracted from the originality 
of the design ; but the house had in spite of that 
a good deal of style, and was pretty and comfort- 
able inside, with open fireplaces, large windows,j 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 37 

beautiful parquet floors, fine pictures, and many 
articles of vertu. 

My aunt and I spent nearly all our day at our em- 
broidery-frames, and in the evening I read out some 
historical novel to her, whilst she still went on working. 
It was a lonely life, for my uncle, who did not like the 
country till the shooting began, generally lingered on 
at Berlin till he went to his yearly cure at some 
watering-place. My only amusement was driving a 
four-in-hand of little Polish piebald ponies when I 
was sent to Leipzig, our nearest town, with Mile, de 
W to do some commissions. 

We had on our way there to pass a wood where 
there had been a sharp encounter during the Napo- 
leonic wars, and at the corner of this wood and close to 
the road a French officer had been buried under a great 
oak-tree. Every year, on the anniversary of the Battle 
of Leipzig, a wreath of flowers was laid upon the grave 
by an unknown lady dressed in deep mourning, but 
nobody knew who she was. At the time I am speaking 
of more than forty years had gone by, but on the 
1 8th of October the flowers were always fresh on the 
grave. 

This reminds me of another historical Hnk of some 
interest. We sometimes used to visit my father's 
second brother at his place Dolkau, which was about 
ten miles distant from us. The road lay right across the 
battlefields of Leipzig and of Liitzen, where Gustavus 
Adolphus, King of Sweden, fell pierced by a shot in 



38 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

his back. Nothing but flat cornfields stretched along 
on both sides of the road. At sunset these great plains 
look almost hke the sea, with mirages of little red-roofed 
villages floating in the heated air. About half-way we 
drove through the little old-world town of Altranstadt, 
which belongs to our family, and where Charles the 
Twelfth of Sweden lived for two years previous to 
signing the peace which bears the name of this town, 
and by which he ended his German campaigns. An 
old groom of my grandfather, who was a native of 
Altranstadt, told my father and my uncles that he 
had often seen the King of Sweden walking over the 
market-place there. 

As the peace was signed in 1707 it takes one a good 
way back. At Dolkau the chair was still preserved on 
which Charles the Twelfth sat when he signed the 
treaty. The house, which had been built by my grand- 
father in a good Empire style, was situated on a lake 
amongst great oak woods. It contained many inter- 
esting heirlooms ; but the thing which fascinated me 
most was a picture of Catharine the Second seated on 
a sofa and drinking tea with her sister, a Princess of 
Anhalt Zerbst, whilst her husband, Duke Peter of 
Holstein Gotthorb, leaned over the back of the sofa 
in a coat of silver cloth, with a red ribbon across 
his breast. 

The figures were about one-third of life-size, and the 
faces showed by their varied expressions that careful 
attention had been paid to likeness. The Empress 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 39 

Catharine, debonair and smiling, in a dress of pale-blue 
satin, with an immense pannier, took no notice whatever 
of her husband, who appeared somewhat embarrassed 
and rather scowling. To the Empress's left sat her 
sister in rose pink, a slight and sentimental-looking 
lady. She was the grandmother of my aunt Ida, 
my uncle's wife, and it was through her the picture 
came toDolkau. 

My parents, and quite especially my mother, had 
been on terms of great friendship with the Court of 
Weimar. The Grand Duchess Sophy after my mother's 
death transferred her affection to me, and I was in 
constant correspondence with her, and was therefore 
allowed to go and spend part of the summer with her 
at a lovely place in the Thuringian Forest, called 
Wilhelmsthal. 

The Grand Duchess was the daughter of the King 
of the Netherlands, and she was one of the best, noblest, 
and cleverest women I ever knew. She was plain as 
far as features go, but she had so much grace and dis- 
tinction that one hardly remembered it when speaking 
to her. 

The Grand Duke was the son of the eldest daughter 
of the Emperor Paul of Russia. He was kind, benevo- 
lent, and chivalrous, devoted to art and literature ; he 
gave encouragement and active help to those artists 
who needed it. He was tall and slight, very upright 
and distinguished-looking, and his oddities of manner 
and rather eccentric way of expressing himself were 



40 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

extremely amusing and added to the pleasure of 
intercourse with him. 

The hills which embosom the valley in which 
Wilhelmsthal lies are not very high, but have soft 
swelling outlines, and the whole country is most idyllic 
in character. The four or five white houses connected 
by colonnades which form this summer pleasance of 
the Dukes of Saxony stand half hidden by flowering 
shrubs and trees on the margin of a lake. Everything 
was simple and fresh there. 

After breakfast the Grand Duke and Duchess used 
to go for a walk with their children, and I always accom- 
panied them. The Grand Duke, who had travelled a 
great deal, was often interesting and always amusing, 
as he had made a point of knowing all the celebrated 
and clever people who came within his reach. As for 
the Grand Duchess, she was the spring of wise and good 
sayings, which seemed to flow without effort or hardly 
any thought from her lips. 

We dined in the middle of the day and went for a 
drive afterwards, generally accompanied by the Grand 
Duke, or one of the gentlemen who was staying on a 
visit. We supped in a charming room, half hbrary and 
half conservatory, and afterwards we had music. 

Liszt, not yet an abbe and perfectly delightful in 
conversation, would, though he certainly remained a 
fortnight, never touch the piano. Instead of this he 
used to read out to the Grand Duchess when I sat with 
her in her room by the hour, galloping on at a most 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 41 

frantic pace. It was generally out of Sainte-Beuve's 
Causer ies du Lundi that he selected passages. These 
hours in the Grand Duchess's ' boudoir a nous trois ' 
enchanted me, for she and Liszt discussed the questions 
mooted by the readings, and they both of them spoke 
exquisite French. Liszt always wore lemon-coloured 
kid gloves, a frock coat and top hat ; and one day when 
we had got out of the carriage and were walking on the 
brink of a precipice, I spied a rare flower growing on the 
rocks half-way down. No sooner had the exclamation 
of delight passed my lips, than to my horror I saw frock 
coat and top hat clambering nimbly down a place which 
was like the side of a quarry and victoriously flourish 
the little flower in the lemon-coloured hands. I thought 
of the odium which would attach to me had anything 
happened to this great genius, who was then at the 
culminating point of his celebrity. Gustav Freytag, 
already famous as the best modern German novelist, 
was one of the visitors, as well as Hans Andersen. The 
latter used to amuse us by his funny German and his 
boundless vanity. He was very tall and badly put 
together ; his body appeared to be a succession of knots 
and ropes, and he had never physically grown out of the 
' ugly green duckling,' but he was full of geniality, and 
the slightest incident furnished him with food for a story. 
M. de Schwindt, the painter of the charming cycle ' Die 
schone Melusine,' was frequently present, as he was 
employed upon the frescoes at the Wartburg which 
the Grand Duke was restoring. 



42 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

We also had the historian M, de Reumont, who 
used to enhven us with his wit and knowledge. In 
appearance he was like the missing link, only in those 
days it had never been heard of. 

The Grand Duchess had the most splendid jewels 
of almost any German Princess. She was always 
beautifully dressed, and on great occasions she used 
to dispose the stones herself on the dress and remain 
there whilst the dressers sewed them on, so that they 
should not have any responsibility if any of them 
were lost. On one of our walks she told me the curious 
story of her mother's pearls, which had been those 
of Marie Antoinette. The Queen of Holland kept 
all her magnificent jewels in a glass case in her 
bedroom — as is, I believe, the habit in Russia — for she 
was one of the Emperor Paul's daughters. One fine 
morning they were all gone, and the search for them 
was vain ; but it was generally believed that some- 
body very nearly related to her had taken them to 
pay debts. They were never traced, excepting the 
pearls, which many years afterwards were found hidden 
in a walkmg-stick in America, where they had evidently 
been all the time, for they had become quite brown and 
encrusted with a kind of growth. The Grand Duchess 
herself cleaned them and wore them continually, 
until they became quite white again. 

The Grand Duchess was a very practical woman, 
and she told me that when her husband had first 
succeeded, the different palaces were entirely wanting 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 43 

in common necessaries, though the walls were covered 
with the most costly silks and velvets, so she and 
the Grand Duke for many years, on birthdays and 
at Christmas, presented each other with dozens of 
beds and other furniture. The Grand Duke was 
immensely interested in the restoration of the Wartburg, 
where his ancestress St. Elisabeth had lived, and he 
sometimes took me to pass some hours there, knowing 
how much I cared for all medieval art. I spent two 
very happy months at Wilhelmsthal. 

Nearly all Germans and Austrians go in the course 
of the summer to some water cure ; my uncle and 
aunt were no exception, and I accompanied them to 
Kissingen on one of these occasions. After drinking 
the waters, and the early morning walk, there is 
nothing to be done except to amuse oneself, for every 
kind of exertion is forbidden, and the whole day is 
spent in social intercourse. We lived entirely with 
the Austrian set, and I was happy with my dear 
friends, the four tall and handsome daughters of a 
tall and beautiful mother. Princess Liechtenstein. 
Besides the Liechtensteins, there was Prince Schwarzen- 
berg, the husband of the famous Princess Lory. 
He was beloved by all for his kindhness and intelli- 
gence. Countess Clothilde Clam Gallas, later on the 
Lady Jersey of Vienna, a slight and graceful woman, 
was chaperoning her sister. Countess Aline Dietrich- 
stein, who married a year or two later Count Alexander 
Mensdorff, a clever, charming, and pleasant man 



44 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

related to Queen Victoria. There were many others 
whom in the course of those quiet humdrum weeks 
one learnt to know far better than one might have 
done in many years of town life. 

From Kissingen we went to Baden-Baden, and 
there we lived mainly with the Russian colony. 
There was a ladies' club there which was a terrible 
trial to me. All the rank and fashion congregated 
in it. Madame Kalergis, with her wonderful flax- 
coloured hair, which nearly swept the floor when she 
let it down, and her cousin, Madame de Seebach, nee 
Nesselrode, were great supporters of this establish- 
ment. Princess Lise Troubetskoi and Countess Lili 
Nesselrode, who used to walk en neglige with immense 
rows of pearls in the Lichtenthaler Allee, were also 
constant frequenters, besides charming Princess Helene 
Biron and many others. All the fastest men were 
invited ; everybody talked a ' jargon de salon ' which 
at that time was fashionable, but which I only half 
understood. I was the only girl there, and happy to 
be allowed to dispense the tea, which was at least an 
occupation. 

It was at Baden that I first saw the Prince of 
Prussia, an event which changed the whole tenor of 
my life, for he made my aunt promise that I should 
be one of the ladies of his future daughter-in-law, the 
Princess Royal, though, she being so young, the 
marriage was to take place only a year or two later. 

I was sometimes allowed to pay short visits to my 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 45 

brother and sister-in-law, and it was during one of 
these that I first met Prince and Princess Metternich, 
who were great friends of theirs. Prince Richard 
Metternich was at that time Minister at Dresden, and 
extremely popular there. Princess Pauhne was not 
yet then, what she called herself a few years later at 
Paris, ' le singe a la mode,' but she had all the necessary 
quahties to become the fashion. Her face was plain, 
but her figure perfect. She had lively black velvety 
eyes and dark curly hair. Her rather thick lips in a 
colourless face gave her a very southern look. She 
was wonderfully quick and witty. The Prince was a 
good musician and played with taste and art, and we 
used to give him some theme which he had to express 
in music, and which the Princess had to guess. She 
never failed to do this, however difficult it might 
have been. One day she said she wanted to shoot 
something. We wandered out, my brother taking 
his gun. It was after dinner, and the Princess wore 
a much beflounced white Organdi dress edged with 
lilac. Her bare shoulders were covered by a Brussels 
lace fichu. She had many strings of large pearls 
around her neck. We were skirting the lake in the 
deer-park, when a wild duck got up at a considerable 
distance. She seized the gun and shot it stone dead. 
It was the first time I had ever seen a woman shoot, 
for at that time it was not yet the fashion. 

Princess Metternich was the daughter of the eccen- 
tric Count Szandor, well known for his mad daring and 



46 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

wild feats in horsemanship. She had alwa37s a circle 
of admirers around her, but never in her long life in 
the great world has a breath of suspicion tarnished 
the shining mirror of her reputation. 

One evening, late in the autumn of 1857, ''^Y aunt 
sent for me and told me she had just received a letter 
from Prince Frederick William, saying he was going to 
be married in January and recalling to her mind the 
promise made to his father, the Prince of Prussia, a 
year or two ago. 

I was at first a little taken aback at this sudden 
change in my life, but though I was very young, and 
had never been out, I longed for independence; and 
the idea of being attached to a young and charming 
Princess, and especially an English one, attracted me 
very much. 

I was to go under the care of Countess Perponcher, 
the future Princess Frederick William's Mistress of the 
Robes, to England, and assist at the marriage ; and 
the weeks that elapsed before starting were so filled 
with preparations for this event that I don't think I 
ever did anything but try on various garments. My 
aunt, who was quite in her element, sat surrounded by 
rich stuffs, laces, flowers, and feathers, ordering about 
the French and German artists who had been convened, 
like a general on a battlefield. 

I had before leaving for England to be presented to 
the King and Queen, who lived very quietly at Char- 
lottenburg. The King's illness, which was softening 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 47 

of the brain, had made much progress, and he never 
appeared in pubHc. Owing to the stringent laws 
about the reception of diplomates in BerHn, dating 
from the time of Frederick the Great, when one of 
them had committed some indiscretion, my aunt was 
not invited, and I had to drive to Charlottenburg all 
by myself. 

It was in the evening about eight o'clock, after 
dinner, for the Court still dined at four o'clock. I 
felt rather nervous, but the King and Queen were both 
most kind and gracious ; and being the granddaughter 
of one of Prussia's most illustrious soldiers and patriots, 
it made up for my not being a Prussian by birth. 

At last the day of my departure arrived, and 
having taken leave of my relatives the previous 
evening, I started in the morning at a very early hour 
in icy cold and pouring rain. It was quite dark still, 
and my heart was sore, but my imagination full of 
delightful pictures. 

At the station I met the rest of the Princess Royal's 
household. The journey from Berlin to London was 
not as easy in 1858 as it is now. At Cologne, where 
we arrived in the middle of the night, we had to walk 
in torrential rain and a furious gale to a small open 
boat, in which, amongst huge floes of ice, we crossed 
the Rhine. The following night we crossed over 
from Calais to Dover in a frantic gale in one of the 
small cockleshells which carried the mail in those days. 
The day after, we got to London in the early afternoon , 



48 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

but there was a black fog and it was pitch dark, and 
all the fireplaces smoked at Fenton's Hotel, which 
was then one of the best. The rooms were small and 
unspeakably dingy ; neither doors nor windows shut 
properly. Accustomed to the large, spacious, well lit 
and warmed rooms in Germany, these arrangements 
might well have depressed me ; but I was determined 
to think everything perfect, as young ladies did then 
when they had just escaped from the schoolroom. 

I shall never forget the impression Windsor Castle 
made upon me when, after a day or two's rest, we 
went on there. It was a clear and frosty afternoon, 
and the splendid pile rose like a fairy palace out of 
the plain, bathed in the soft light of a January full 
moon. 

We had hardly arrived at the Castle when the 
Queen sent for us. We were ushered into a very 
small boudoir furnished in light greys and blues. The 
Queen stood there with Prince Albert by her side and 
the Princess Royal a little behind them. I was at 
once struck by the commanding look in the Queen's 
eyes ; they were very clear, blue and full, and when 
she spoke they became kind and gentle. Her ladies, 
as I noticed later on, stood in awe of these eyes, which 
saw everything. 

Prince Albert, tall, calm, and good-looking, was 
exactly like the pictures Winterhalter painted of him 
at that date. 

The Princess Royal, only just seventeen, was in 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 49 

appearance almost a child. Her radiant eyes and 
bewitching smile won every heart at once. She 
was naturally a little shy when the Queen motioned 
her to come forward and speak to us, but she 
did it with great composure and gentleness. The 
Prince Consort looked at her with pride and affection, 
for her bright intellect and quick grasp of things had 
responded brilliantly to the care he had bestowed on 
the development of his gifted child. 

At dinner I sat next to Lord Palmerston, of whom 
I had heard from my infancy as the disturber of 
European peace, and he amused himself by trying to 
disturb mine, asking me a number of puzzling and 
embarrassing questions. As, however, he appeared 
to me to be very much advanced in years, and I had 
been taught to respect old age, I bore them with 
equanimity and answered as politely as I could. As 
soon as the foreign Royalties began to arrive, the Court 
removed to Buckingham Palace, and State dinners, 
balls, concerts, and operas succeeded each other. 
King Leopold, with the Duke and Duchess of Brabant 
and the Count of Flanders, was one of the first to come. 
He was benign, discreet, and dignified, and glided 
about distributing advice in soft low tones and peculiar 
inflections of voice. His daughter-in-law, the Duchess 
of Brabant, was an Austrian Arch-duchess, with a 
beautiful figure and brilliant complexion. The Prince 
and Princess of Prussia were radiant at the realisation 
of their long-cherished project, as also was Duke 



50 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Ernest of Coburg, bluff and enthusiastic, talking loud, 
and gesticulating much, quite different from his brother, 
Prince Albert. Besides these there were many other 
minor Royalties. A day or two before the wedding, 
Prince Frederick William arrived. He had for three 
years been in love with his young and charming fiancee, 
and it would perhaps be more correct to say that he 
adored her, for he respected her character and admired 
her cleverness. 

The Prince was then not the splendid apparition 
he became ten years later. He was slender and only 
wore a slight moustache ; but his kind blue eyes and 
charming address made him popular wherever he went. 

The Prince was accompanied by a brilliant suite, 
amongst which was General Moltke, at that time quite 
unknown to the greater public. He was a most silent 
and taciturn man ; and not knowing what mighty 
thoughts were working in that weighty brain, I teased 
and chaffed him constantly on the journey home to 
Germany. The experience I suppose was so new to 
him that we became fast friends. 

The parting of the Princess from her beloved 
parents, from her brothers and sisters, and the adored 
land of her birth, was most affecting, indeed painful, 
for there was a passion in all her feeHngs which often 
made her suffer much. 

The journey to Berlin was full of incident. At 
Brussels, where we arrived only just in time for a late 
dinner, it was found that much of the luggage had been 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 51 

left behind. I philosophically retired to bed, but was 
roused by my maid after midnight to say the boxes 
had come, and the Princess expected me in the 
ball-room. In ten minutes I had joined her and was 
dancing a quadrille with the Duke of Brabant. 

We started again the next morning, and there 
were receptions all along the road. This compelled 
us to wear very smart light-coloured moire dresses 
without any cloaks over them. At Hanover a great 
Court banquet awaited us. The reception was very 
splendid, but the long table groaned under the famous 
golden dinner-service which for so many years had, 
with other heirlooms, been the object of a great lawsuit 
between Queen Victoria and the King of Hanover, and 
which the English Crown lawyers gave in his favour. 
The Princess recognised it at once, and was much hurt ; 
but she was there, as through the whole journey, gentle, 
charming, and affable : not for one moment relaxing 
her endeavour to make the best impression. There 
was in her appearance a childlike dignity and goodness 
which was most captivating. That night we stopped 
at Magdeburg, and our quarters looked so uninviting 
that Lady Churchill, who accompanied the Princess 
to Berlin, and I sat up all night in chairs, as we could 
not face our beds. 

In the beautiful Cathedral the next morning the 
crowd was so anxious to catch a glimpse of the Princess 
that her clothes, a dress of tartan velvet, were torn 
off her back. 

E 2 



52 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Some time before arriving at Potsdam, old Field- 
Marshal Wrangel, the most daredevil and original of 
Prussian generals, got into the train to compliment the 
Ro37al couple. After having done this he sat down 
plump into the middle of a succulent apple tart, which 
had been presented to the Princess at Wittenberg, a 
town renowned for this delicacy, and which the Princess 
of Prussia had put away on a seat. The tart clung to 
its position tenaciously whilst the Princesses, shrieking 
with laughter, tried with pocket-handkerchiefs and 
napkins to disengage the old hero from its sweet 
embrace. 

It was General Wrangel who, when the rebels 
during the Revolution of 1848 threatened to hang his 
wife if he forced an entrance into Berlin, philosophically 
remarked, as he was leisurely riding down ' Unter den 
Linden ' : ' Ob sie ihr wohl gehangt haben ? ' (I wonder 
whether they have hanged her ?). This speech was all 
the funnier for the atrocious dialect in which he alwaj^s 
spoke. 

At Potsdam all the Prussian Princes and Prin- 
cesses were assembled to receive their new relative, and 
the next morning we moved to a small palace called 
Bellevue, close to Berlin, where we changed our 
dresses for the State entrance into the capital. 

It was a bitter cold though bright January day, and 
the Princess and all her ladies had to wear low dresses 
and keep the windows of the golden coaches down. 
Such a thing as a boa or a fur cape was quite 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 53 

unknown ; but though the drive at a foot's pace 
took nearly two hours, nobody even got a cold. 

That night there was the Fackeltanz in the Weisser 
Saal. It consists of a Polonaise danced by the bride and 
bridegroom, preceded by pages carrying torches, with 
all the Princes and Princesses present in succession. 
For a whole month festivities followed each other ; 
but then Berlin relapsed into its former quiet, for the 
King's illness increased every day, and it was not 
deemed right that the town should amuse itself. 

I was, however, very happy. I loved the Princess, 
and it is rather a pleasant thing to be eighteen and 
have good spirits ; to be quite independent, go alone 
wherever one likes, receive whomsoever one wishes to 
see, have a carriage and riding-horses, and a box at 
all the Royal theatres, and nobody in the world to 
interfere with one. 

That winter we lived in the Old Schloss, which 
had not been inhabited for a long time. It was badly 
heated and hardly lit. Endless dark corridors con- 
nected huge mysterious-looking rooms, hung with large 
pictures of long-forgotten Ro37al personages ; the wind 
whistled down through the large chimneys, and 
the unspoken terror of the ' Weisse Dame ' brooded 
over all. 

The Princess did not like being left alone in the 
vast apartments, and the Prince, who had been ex- 
onerated from his military duties for a time, hardly 
ever left her during these early days ; but there was 



54 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

one thing she could not bear, that was his habit of 
taking every evening an hour's walk by himself in the 
streets. I often heard her imploring him not to go ; 
but much as he gave way in everything else, he never 
would make that sacrifice to her. 

In the spring the Prince and Princess made a tour 
amongst some of the smaller German Courts. It was 
a wonderful experience, for it meant seeing life as it 
was a hundred years ago with all its restrictions and 
discomforts. The rooms were generally large and 
sufficiently warmed, but the beds were wonderful to 
behold and fearful to sleep or rather to lie awake in, for 
huge feather beds insisted upon either suffocating one 
or tumbling upon the floor. Baths there were none, 
but the exiguous washing-stand was garnished with 
slop-basins of precious china and ruby glass picked out 
with gold. Carpets and writing-tables were ignored, 
and so were bells, and shutters to the windows. The 
Princess, who was accustomed to English comforts, 
was much astonished, though from temperament she 
had very simple habits. The life she really loved, and 
which she began to lead very soon after her marriage, 
was getting up very early and going to bed almost by 
daylight. At Berlin she and the Prince generally 
lunched and dined alone, and they also drove out 
together without any attendance. When the Prince 
resumed his mihtary duties it happened that sometimes 
for several weeks he had to be away all day long. On 
those occasions I breakfasted with the Princess at 8.30 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 55 

o'clock, and never left her all day long. I often read 
out the whole morning whilst she was painting. She 
had great talent and much imagination, and had been 
very well taught. 

The first summer was passed at Babelsberg — a 
modern castle in a picturesque situation on the river 
Havel, not far from Potsdam. It was a pretty but most 
inconvenient place. It was there that the Queen and 
Prince Consort came to pay a fortnight's visit to their 
daughter. How it became possible to make room for 
them in the castle seemed a miracle. All the ladies 
and gentlemen of both Courts were lodged in the palace 
at Potsdam ; only Lady Macdonald and I remained 
in attendance on our Royal mistresses at Babelsberg, 
where we lived in a tiny cottage on the roadside quite 
alone with our maids. It was a ten minutes' walk to 
the castle, and we had to go there for all our meals in 
all weathers. 

It was a very gay fortnight. Most of the ladies and 
gentlemen used to take long rides through the lovely 
parks or row about on the river, and every evening there 
were large dinner-parties, to which all the Prussian 
Princes and Princesses, the Ministers and high digni- 
taries, the British Legation, and many distinguished 
foreigners were bidden. 

Lord Bloomfield was at that time British Minister 
at Berlin. He was a charming man, urbane and 
courteous, and quite a diplomat of the old school. He 
was naturally somewhat punctiUous about outward 



56 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

forms, and was very much distressed that Lord Malmes- 
bury, who, in his capacity of Foreign Minister, had 
accompanied the Queen, would come to dinner in an 
alpaca tail-coat which he insisted upon wearing on 
account of the heat. Also one of his secretaries 
appeared on those occasions with a billycock hat, 
which he, being an enthusiastic fisherman, had liberally 
ornamented with flies. Lord Malmesbury was passion- 
ately fond of deerstalking, and begged the Queen's 
permission to precede her by a day or two so as to get 
a little sooner . to his place in the Highlands. Her 
Majesty was much amused to hear that, finding the 
bridge of boats at Cologne opening to let a steamer 
pass. Lord Malmesbury, with both of his secretaries, 
leaving their servants and luggage behind, had all three 
vaulted over the ever-widening chasm and caught the 
train for Calais. 

On the Princess's birthday, the 2nd of November, 
we went to live in the Palace, which became her per- 
manent abode, and there, in the following January, 
the Emperor William was born. 

For some hours the Princess's life was in great 
danger, and I never saw anything more touching 
than the Princess of Prussia's happiness when all 
was safely over. This lady, generally so dignified, 
actually danced with joy and embraced everybody 
she met. 

The Empress Augusta, as she became later, has 
often been very much misunderstood. Her manners 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 57 

were perhaps a little stiff and affected ; but that she 
was a very clever woman nobody contested, however 
many thought that she had little heart and was not 
sincere. Those who knew her well, knew that this was 
not the case, and that her nature was a very noble one. 
I had many opportunities of seeing her, as she often 
sent for me to accompany her in her long walks, and 
sometimes even in her journeys. In those days there 
were no special saloons, and we travelled in ordinary 
carriages, badly lit and often very cold. The Princess 
said : ' You must not strain your young eyes, dear 
child ; I will read out to you ' ; and, seating herself 
on the arm of the seat and holding up the paper to the 
wretched oil lamp to get a better hght, she would read 
out to me for hours. 

It was on such a journey to Weimar, where the 
Princess of Prussia frequently went to visit her mother, 
the venerable Grand Duchess Marie, eldest daughter of 
the Emperor Paul, that I first made the acquaintance of 
the good and charming Princess Stephanie of Hohenzol- 
lern, who was then engaged to Dom Pedro of Portugal, 
and whose gentle life was to be cut off so suddenly 
and mysteriously the following year. The Princess of 
Prussia was very fond of the lovely young girl, and had 
her constantly to stay with her. There was something 
angelic in the childlike contour and expression of her 
face. She had been brought up in Spartan simplicity, 
nevertheless she made a beautiful young Queen when 
she stood arrayed in Royal robes and covered with 



58 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

splendid jewels sent by her future husband, in the 
Hedwigskirche at Berlin, where she was married by 
proxy to him. Her death, so soon followed by that of 
the young and gifted King and his two brothers, 
was a tragedy which saddened the hearts of all who 
knew them. 

The Princess Royal had wished to live in the Neue 
Palais, and it was now made over entirely to the young 
Royal couple as their abode when they did not live 
at Berlin. It was a magnificent edifice erected by 
Frederick the Great to show his enemies that his wars 
had not exhausted his exchequer. To further annoy 
' les trois cotillons,' as he called Catharine the Second, 
Maria Theresa, and Madame de Pompadour, he put 
their dancing figures on the top of the cupola. Con- 
ceive the feelings of the two Empresses at seeing 
themselves in such company ! 

Long shady avenues stretched out from the Palace 
in every direction. The Princess and I used to walk 
there in the moonlit summer evenings when everybody 
had gone to bed, and lie in wait behind a hedge or 
a tree to try and frighten the Prince, who still would 
continue his nocturnal perambulations. 

Early that summer the danger of war became 
imminent, and the Prince told me one day that on the 
next it was to be officially declared that Prussia would 
join Austria against France and Italy. On that day 
there was a great military dinner at the Neue Palais. 
The only ladies present were the Princess and her ladies. 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 59 

The generals all knew what the next morning was to 
bring, and the great though suppressed enthusiasm 
was shown by the emotion on every face. A telegram 
was suddenly brought to the Regent, who stood up and 
said : ' Gentlemen, a peace has been signed at Villafranca 
between the Emperor of Austria and the Emperor of the 
French.' These words were received in dead silence. 

It is difficult to imagine in these days the fear 
and distrust the name of Louis Napoleon inspired in 
Germany then. There were many still alive who 
remembered the ravages of the French, under the first 
Napoleon, and the thought that more terrible times 
might be in store for the Fatherland lay like a stone 
on the heart of every good German, for none but 
mediocrities had for many years guided the fortunes 
of the State, and the country had not yet awakened 
to its power. 

Even the common people talked of nothing but Louis 
Napoleon, and I remember hearing an old washer- 
woman as she was wringing out the linen saying to her 
crony : ' Oh, if only something human would happen 
to him ! ' This was a curiously significative expression, 
as wishing for his death, and yet attributing something 
supernatural to him. 

During this summer the Empress Dowager of 
Russia, the widow of the Emperor Nicholas, came to 
live at the Neue Palais for several weeks. A vast 
apartment had been prepared for her, as she came with 
an enormous suite. There were four maids of honour. 



6o SCENES AND MEMORIES 

who were dressed in black cashmere on work- days, and 
in French grey on birth- and feast-days. These young 
ladies had each of them several maids, who all slept on 
the floor, as did nearly all the other servants. There 
was a tradition that after these Imperial visits all the 
rooms had to be gutted and entirely renewed. 

The Empress Dowager was the sister of the Regent 
(later Emperor William the First), and had been very 
beautiful. She still looked most distinguished and 
dignified. She was extraordinarily thin, but tall and 
erect, with deep-set eyes and very delicate straight 
features not unlike her mother. Queen Louise. She 
generally wore a plain black dress and a black lace 
scarf over her head, and loose light-brown Swedish 
leather gloves on her long narrow hands. On birth- 
days, however, she appeared in white, as splendid an 
apparition as a woman of her advanced age could be. 
Folds of costly lace enveloped her head and descended 
low down upon the rich white silk of her dress. Large 
pearls were fastened in her hair, and priceless pearl 
drops hung in her ears. Ropes of pearls encircled her 
neck, her arms, her waist. The only bit of colour was 
the pale-brown Swedish gloves, without which no 
well-bred woman of that day would have thought 
herself dressed. White was very little worn then, 
and never by old ladies ; the Empress's appearance 
was therefore most surprisingly fascinating to the 
unaccustomed eye. 

When we returned to Berlin the Princess continued 



COURT AND SOCIETY AT BERLIN 6i 

to live her quiet, retired, and yet so well-filled life. 
Her mornings were passed in painting and attending 
to her correspondence, for she wrote almost daily to 
her parents. Just before luncheon she took a short 
drive with the Prince, and another in the afternoon. 
She seldom went to the theatre or opera, and always 
retired very early. Though almost a child still in 
years, she was even then a very remarkable character. 
She had great decision and a wonderful grasp of the 
situation, also a great power of adaptation. Her dis- 
position was a very affectionate one, and has perhaps 
in later years been misused by those in whom she 
reposed too much confidence. She loved England and 
everything English with a fervour which at times 
roused contradiction in her Prussian surroundings. I 
was, perhaps, the only one who entirely sympathised 
in her patriotic feelings, but I was too young and 
inexperienced to reflect that it would be unwise to 
give them too much scope. 

It was a great sorrow to me when I had to part 
from a Princess to whom I was so deeply attached, and 
I always remembered the two years I spent in her con- 
stant vicinity and intimacy as some of the happiest in 
my life. 



CHAPTER III 

THE EMPRESS FREDERICK IN YOUTH 

The day I first set eyes on the Princess Royal was late 
in December 1857. It was after tea in a small boudoir 
at Windsor Castle. The Princess was standing between 
the Queen and the Prince Consort, and as I advanced 
to kiss her hand I felt the flower-like touch of her 
fresh face on my cheek and saw her bright eyes smile 
into mine. 

Though barely out of the schoolroom myself, the 
Princess appeared to me extraordinarily young. All 
the childish roundness still clung to her and made her 
look shorter than she really was. She was dressed in 
a fashion long disused on the Continent, in a plum- 
coloured silk dress fastened at the back. Her hair was 
drawn off her forehead. Her eyes were what struck 
me most ; the iris was green, hke the sea on a sunny 
day, and the white had a peculiar shimmer which gave 
them the fascination that, together with a smile showing 
her small and beautiful teeth, bewitched those who 
approached her. The nose was unusually small and 

turned up slightly, and the complexion was decidedly 

62 



EMPRESS FREDERICK IN YOUTH 63 

ruddy, perhaps too much so for one so young, but it 
gave the idea of perfect health and strength. The 
fault of the face lay in the squareness of the lower 
features, and there was even then a look of determina- 
tion about the chin ; but the very gentle and almost 
timid manner prevented one reahsing this at first. 
The voice was very delightful, never going up to high 
tones, but lending a peculiar charm to the sHghtly 
foreign accent with which the Princess spoke, both 
English and German. 

Though all who knew the Princess at that epoch 
recognised the promise of some of the great and re- 
markable qualities which went to form the character 
of the Empress Frederick, nobody could foresee the 
circumstances and tragic events which shaped them 
in a pecuHar mould. During those last weeks before 
her marriage the Princess appeared to cling with 
passion to all her family, especially to her father, whom 
she worshipped and admired with all her soul. She 
was highly cultured, and she felt she owed this to his 
incessant care of her. He, on his part, was proud of 
this lavishly endowed child and always said that it was 
of her and Don Pedro of Portugal, his cousin, that he 
had the highest expectations and felt himself best 
understood. Don Pedro died in the flower of his youth, 
and the Prince scarcely hved to see the development 
of his beloved daughter. 

The Princess had a great feehng for fun and 
innocent hmnour, and was full of stories about her 



64 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

brothers and sisters. She adored the baby Princess 
Beatrice, who was only a few months old, and when 
fondling her the motherly instinct came out strongly. 
She was in fits of laughter about Prince Affy, who, 
having discovered that one of the gentlemen of the 
Court wore false calves, planted pins with flags into his 
silk stockings, and also much amused at Prince Leopold, 
who, aged four, always picked out the prettiest ladies 
and insisted upon helping them to do their hair. 

It was not entirely a spirit of contradiction which, 
later on, made her depreciate her German surroundings, 
for even before she left England I never saw anybody 
so entirely attached to her home and her belongings 
and consciously appreciating them — a thing very rare 
in one so young. From the moment, however, that 
Prince Frederick William arrived, a few days before the 
marriage, his presence seemed to fill the whole picture 
out for her. 

Anybody who ever approached Prince Frederick 
WilHam knows how great his kindness, charm, and 
geniality were ; but he was undeveloped for his age, and, 
though ten years older than the Princess, it was easy 
to see who would take the lead. Her surroundings 
had been large, splendid, and liberal, whilst he had been 
brought up in a narrow, old-fashioned, and reactionary 
way, which had kept him back and subdued him. 
Nobody was more aware of this than himself or spoke 
more openly about it with his friends. The Princess, 
often from no particular reason, took violent fancies to 



EMPRESS FREDERICK IN YOUTH 65 

people. She used at first to think them quite perfect 
and then came the bitter disiUusion. She also took 
first-sight dislikes to persons, based often only on a 
trick of manner, or an idle word dropped about them 
in her presence, and thus she often lost useful friends 
and supporters. She was no judge of character, and 
never became one, because her own point of view 
was the only one she could see. This is a frequent 
defect in strong characters endowed with much 
initiative. 

When I first knew the Princess Royal it was the 
Empress Eugenie who filled her young mind with 
admiration. She was never tired of extolling her grace 
and her beauty. She still treasured a piece of tulle torn 
off the Empress's dress at some ball in Paris when she 
accompanied the Queen there in 1854, ^-^^ spoke of her 
in raptures. When she worked herself up to these 
enthusiasms, or, as the French would call it, engouements, 
she praised the fancy of the moment so excessively 
that it was difficult to agree entirely with her, thus often 
raising opposition and even contradiction, which, how- 
ever, only fanned her enthusiasm to a brighter flame. 
She was in the habit of praising places and countries 
in the same exaggerated way, and her constant admiring 
references to England and everything English was what 
hurt the susceptibiUty of the Prussians and made 
them turn against her. 

I am, however, bound to say that, referring to 
the letters I wrote to my family at that time (they 



66 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

were not Prussians, but living at Berlin), I gather 
that there was a party with whom the marriage was 
very unpopular long before the Princess arrived there, 
and the centre of discontent was the Court of the 
King. Frederick William the Fourth was a witty 
and amiable man, but at the time we are speaking of 
already very ill and suffering from softening of the 
brain, from which he died three years later. The 
Queen, a severely good woman, was exceedingly stiff 
and strait-laced, and had always been a devoted 
partisan of Russia, and in consequence she abhorred 
everything English, for the Crimean war was still fresh 
in all people's memories. I express in those letters 
(which were those of a child, and therefore speak the 
truth) my astonishment at all the unkind reports I 
had heard at Berlin, and I insist constantly on the 
indescribable charm of the Princess, the great dignity 
of the Queen, and the good looks of the Prince of 
Wales, all so contrary to the impression which had 
been given me beforehand. 

The homeward journey of Prince and Princess 
Frederick William after their marriage was a series of 
triumphs, and the bright but icily cold January day 
on which they made their State entry into Berlin in a 
gilt coach with the windows let down, so that the 
people might see them better, witnessed a reception 
of unequalled enthusiasm in the annals of Prussia. 
When, after several freezing hours, the Royal pair 
arrived at the Old Schloss, where all the Princes and 



EMPRESS FREDERICK IN YOUTH 67 

Princesses of the House of Hohenzollern and many 
other Royal and illustrious guests were assembled to 
receive them, the Queen Elisabeth, as she somewhat 
frigidly embraced her new niece, remarked : * Are 
you not frozen to death ? ' upon which the Princess 
promptly responded, ' Yes, I am ; I have only one 
warm place, and that is my heart ! ' 

All during the festivities which followed, the Prin- 
cess won hearts by the thousand. She was always at 
her best when amused and excited ; her shyness then 
had not time to show itself, and she was far more at 
her ease and spoke better when making that trying 
Continental institution, a cercle, during those first 
months of her married life, than she ever did after- 
wards, brilliant though she always was in intimate 
conversation, especially when she was alone with a 
person she liked. 

The old King and his Queen lived at Charlotten- 
burg and never appeared in public, a small circle of 
select friends only being invited in the evening. The 
Prince of Prussia, who, soon after the Princess Royal's 
marriage, became Regent, and was later on the beloved 
and revered ' Kaiser Wilhelm,' was not in those days 
popular with the masses. He had taken part with 
England and France against Russia in the Crimean 
war, and so did his wife, an intellectual and highly 
cultivated woman, who, however, amongst the Prus- 
sians proper had another title to unpopularity, which 
was her leaning to Roman Catholicism. 



68 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

It was not to be wondered at, therefore, that all 
the affection of the people and the sympathies of at 
least all the young and brilliant section of society 
should go out to that young Court, presided over by a 
Prince whose kind nature and noble aspirations were 
known to all who came near him and by a Princess of 
seventeen, whose cleverness and charm enslaved even 
those who had been most opposed to what was termed 
' the Enghsh marriage/ 

There can be no doubt that the Princess from the 
first compared life at Berlin disadvantageously with 
her English homes, but at that time certainly without 
any bitterness. To the Prince, who adored her, 
England also seemed perfection, so there was no 
warning note sounded in that direction, and I, who 
had been brought up by English nurses and gover- 
nesses, with English ideas and English prejudices, 
thought her quite in the right, and only wondered 
when some of those surrounding her took umbrage 
at what appeared to me to be only natural. 

Nor do I think that many knew the difficulties and 
discomforts that the young Princess had to encounter. 
The first year of her married life was passed at the 
picturesque but highly inconvenient Old Schloss. 
She had a vast but gloomy apartment, where the win- 
dows rattled and the chimneys smoked. Of the heating 
of the huge stone staircases and passages there was 
no trace, and everything that had to do with hygiene 
was sadly neglected. The Princess, who was practical 



EMPRESS FREDERICK IN YOUTH 69 

by nature and well up in all new inventions, and by 
temperament a Liberal and Progressive, was at first 
astonished and then shocked at the elementary in- 
stallation. She took the greatest trouble and interest 
in arranging the Palace, which was to be her abiding 
home, with every English comfort and improvement. 
But even in that palace she had not quite a free hand, 
for it had been that of King Frederick William the 
Third, the Prince's grandfather, who had died in it, 
and his room had by his pious sons been preserved in 
exactly the same state as it was on the day of his death. 
This room was situated between the Princess's boudoir 
and library, and every time she went to her bed 
or dressing-room she was obliged to pass through it. 
The Princess was not superstitious, but the associa- 
tions of the room, with its sparse and Spartan furniture, 
and the icy cold which always pervaded it, were 
enough to shake older nerves than hers. But there 
was more. 

The door between the boudoir and the ' death- 
room,' as it was always called, would sometimes open by 
itself. The first time it happened was on a winter's 
evening shortly before the present Emperor was born, 
and the Princess had only been a few weeks in the 
Palace. She was sitting on a light blue damask sofa 
next to the door, but with her back to it, and I was 
sitting opposite her, reading out aloud, close under 
the lamp, when, raising my eyes, I saw the door — 
which was a single one, and covered, like the walls. 



70 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

with blue silk — open noiselessly, and, as if pushed by 
an invisible hand, swing back gently on its hinges till 
it reached the wall. I was very much afraid of appa- 
ritions in those days, and I stopped reading and stared 
spellbound. The Princess cried, ' What do you see ? ' 
I said, ' Nothing, Ma'am,' and got up to close the 
door ; but it will be conceded that it was very creepy 
and not agreeable for a young married woman in a 
dehcate state of health to have so depressing a neigh- 
bourhood. The cause of the door opening in that way 
was discovered later to be quite natural ; it was not 
set straight on its hinges, and the wall of the room 
extended as an arch over the street, so that the re- 
verberation of any heavy waggon passing under it 
shook the doorposts and made the lock give way and 
the door swing back. 

The first summer the Princess passed in her new 
country, the Royal couple resided at Babelsberg, a 
modern Gothic creation, with nothing to recommend 
it but a rather pretty situation on the river Havel. 
It was there the Prince Consort visited his beloved 
daughter in the month of May, 1858, for the first time 
after her marriage. He was just recovering from a 
sharp attack of typhoid fever, which left him weak 
and aged, and the Princess's happiness at having her 
adored father under her own roof-tree was much 
tempered by her anxiety about his health. 

It was at Babelsberg also that the Queen, later on 
in the summer, paid a visit of a fortnight. There was 



EMPRESS FREDERICK IN YOUTH 71 

only just room for the Royalties in the Castle, and all 
the Court removed to the Palace at Potsdam, at about 
half an hour's distance, with the exception of the 
Queen's lady-in-waiting and myself, who lived in a 
cottage about ten minutes' walk from the Castle, 
The cottage was such that I was in the habit of 
sleeping during the frequent thunderstorms of a 
German summer with my umbrella open and fastened 
to the head of my bed. 

The next summer the splendid and roomy Neue 
Palais was, at the Princess's request, put at her dis- 
posal, and she made it in the course of years an abode 
as comfortable as it was beautiful. 

There is no doubt that the very liberal tendencies 
the Princess had imbibed in England appeared utterly 
subversive to many of the reactionary Prussians of 
that day. Such men as Disraeli and Lord Salisbury 
were still in the dim future, and all her sympathies 
were with Lord Palmerston and his Ministry, especially 
such men as Lords Clarendon and Granville, who both 
came to pay her a visit at Babelsberg. There was 
nobody who showed more than the Princess, by the 
play of her mobile features and the vivacity or re- 
straint of her gestures, whether she liked the person 
she was speaking to or not, and at that period the 
very approach of a Tory or a reactionary seemed to 
freeze her up. 

The thing that often struck me about her was the 
tragic note in her thoughts, so little in harmony with 



72 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

the rest of her personaUty. It was curious in one so 
young and apparently so happy, and it seemed to 
spring from a want of confidence in the future and a 
passionate chnging to the present, if it was what 
pleased her. Later on it was the same with her 
children ; she desired with unutterable longing to 
keep them always in babyhood. She loved them as 
long as they were quite small with a violence as if she 
feared they would be taken from her. I was too young 
to make inductions in those days, but I always felt 
that the fear of the future, which so often seemed to 
loom over her, had something to do with her dislike 
to abstract thought and any spiritual problem. Every- 
thing seemed to approach her through the senses and 
not through intuition. She was a clever artist, and 
drew correctly and with decision, though with more 
adaptiveness than imagination. Th.e drawing of hers 
that had most of the latter quality was done when 
she was fourteen. It represented a young woman 
bending over a dead soldier on one of the Crimean 
battlefields ; it was a dark picture well composed, 
with a lurid sky and the tragic element very strong in 
it. In art she preferred Rubens to any other painter, 
and everything she admired was always abundant 
and strong. It was not the fashion in the fifties to 
admire women of the gigantic latter-day pattern, but 
she always praised those of ample proportions, even 
if they were not good-looking. 

In science, too, she only believed in the palpable 



EMPRESS FREDERICK IN YOUTH 73 

and positive, and she looked upon the beginnings of 
magnetism and hypnotism, often called spiritualism, 
at that time as absurd superstition. In medicine, 
for instance, she only saw salvation in the large doses 
of the allopath, and laughed at the homoeopath as 
a harmless lunatic. 

On the other hand, her grasp of events and facts 
was astounding in one so young, and only equalled by 
her capacity for adapting anything she might gather 
from others to her wants. Her memory was retentive 
for anything that interested her. She was not a great 
reader, but liked being read to whilst she drew ; she 
loved music, but was not so good a musician as the 
Queen. She was never idle and an early riser, but 
sometimes went to bed almost by dayhght. Physically, 
she was indolent in those days, at least for walking, 
but she could ride for hours in scorching sun or cutting 
wind without ever feeling tired. She was not in- 
different to dress, but could have done herself 
more justice had she understood what suited her. 
She was too often guided by what suited others, or 
what she thought pretty in a picture, or by sentiment. 
She was not twenty when I left her, and yet her 
character then was more formed than that of most 
women of thirty. I always noticed that men, especially 
clever men, understood her better than women ; and 
if she had not had a constitutional timidity which made 
it quite impossible for her to carry things through 
when she was opposed by a determined will, she 



74 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

would have accomplished a great deal more than she 
did. She was unable to tell those who surrounded 
her if anything in their behaviour displeased her, but 
she felt acutely the want of harmony produced by 
this state of things, and from this arose the many 
misunderstandings which darkened so much of her 
life. It was this timidity and want of elan which 
prevented her gaining the influence over the Regent, 
through which she might have fulfilled all her wishes 
instead of having to resort to the expedient of a ' go- 
between.' The Regent, chivalrous, very open to the 
influence of women, and proud of this young English 
daughter-in-law, would have been wax in her hands 
if she could have treated him with affectionate and 
familiar pleasantry, and behaved like a loving child 
with a doting father. Instead of this, she froze up 
with him, and especially with his wife, the future 
Empress Augusta, into a shy reserve which made in- 
timate conversation impossible. Perhaps these two 
first years were the happiest of her married life. She 
had not then matured, in fact hardly conceived, the 
plans which made her later years a life of longing and 
unfulfilled wishes. She felt her powers seething in 
her, but she did not consciously adapt them. She 
loved the Prince, and he looked up to her as the per- 
fection of womanhood. There was one thing alone 
in which he never gave way to her wishes : he stead- 
fastly refused giving up his solitary evening walk in 
the streets of Berhn, after the Princess had gone to 



EMPRESS FREDERICK IN YOUTH 75 

bed, though she was terrified, and entreated him 
over and over again to make this sacrifice for her. 
But those were still days of great security, and Prince 
Frederick WilHam was beloved by high and low, so 
he only laughed at these fears. 

During these years the Princess was not yet troubled 
with the thought of inadequate means to carry out 
her conceptions. It was not unnatural that, having 
been brought up amongst the riches and luxury of 
England, she thought herself very poor in her new 
life, and, hke many people who have no clear idea of 
the value of money, she imagined herself sometimes 
on the brink of ruin. 

At that time she saw none but bright and cheerful 
faces about her, and she was sure of the devotion of 
her surroundings ; the world lay at her feet — the 
daughter of a mighty Queen, and the future Queen of 
a great people. Nobody in those days then thought 
the day could be far distant on which she would 
ascend the throne. The first terrible blow was the 
death of the Prince Consort. I saw her some months 
later, still utterly crushed and listless ; and how 
many other blows have followed this first one ! and 
what a sad and tragic fate has been that of this 
remarkable and highly endowed Princess ! 

But my intimate association with her ended in the 
third year of her marriage, before the dark shadows 
of the wings of fate had lowered on her path. She 
arises in my memory in all her freshness and childlike 



76 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

simplicity, the eldest and most brilliant daughter of 
proud parents, the loving and admired sister, the 
adored girl-wife of a chivalrous husband, the affec- 
tionate friend, and the young and happy mother. 
There seemed to be sunshine everywhere. The future 
was mercifully hidden from all eyes, and she alone, 
though unconsciously, felt the gathering clouds with 
which an inscrutable Providence darkened the high 
hopes sprung from so radiant a beginning. 



CHAPTER IV 

A ROYAL MARRIAGE 

In ending the chapter of my recollections of Berlin 
and my Court life I do not think I laid sufficient stress 
upon the grief it was to me to part from a charming 
and highly gifted young Princess who during the two 
years I had been with her had showed me nothing but 
the most gracious affection and friendship. 

The Princess Royal, then Princess Frederic Wilham 
of Prussia, and later Empress Frederic, was at that 
time not yet twenty, but it was easy to see what great 
capacities she might develop. She always had a 
passionate love for her native country, and when I 
married she said she could only forgive me because 
I married an Englishman. 

Our marriage took place at the English Legation 
at Berlin, of which Lord Bloomfield, one of the most 
amiable and polished men of that day, was then the 
incumbent. All the Princes and Princesses of the 
Royal House assisted. Princess Frederic William, 
whom I will in future mention only as ' the Princess,' 
insisted upon giving the breakfast, though she was in 

77 



y^ SCENES AND MEMORIES 

deep mourning for her grandmother, the Dowager 
Duchess of Coburg. After changing my dress at the 
Palace I took leave of the Prince and Princess with few 
words but many tears, and started with my husband 
for my brother's place, which had been lent to us. We 
spent a fortnight or three weeks at Hohenpriessnitz, 
walking or driving for hours through those enchanted 
woods which stretch away for forty miles in ' an endless 
contiguity of shade.' It was October, and the great 
beeches shone like gold in the mellow autumn sun 
against the background of tall silver-stemmed firs. 

In the first week of November we left for England, 
and were almost immediately invited to Windsor. We 
arrived there on the Prince of Wales's birthday, at 
that anxious time when, returning from the United 
States, his ship was already ten days overdue. There 
had been frightful storms on the Atlantic, and the 
Prince Consort looked pale and worn. 

A silent anxiety seemed to brood over the whole 
Court. The Queen alone kept up her spirits, her 
blue eyes shining as bright as ever. She did not 
admit that this delay could be due to anything but 
the usual November fogs and storms. 

At dinner I sat next to the Prince Consort. The 
conversation naturally reverted to the Prince of 
Wales. I knew that both he and the Queen were very 
anxious to secure his future happiness by a marriage 
as desirable as possible, on private as well as on 
public grounds. 



A ROYAL MARRIAGE 79 

About a year before the time I am speaking of, 
the Princess (Princess Royal) had, after spending 
some weeks with her parents in England, gone on a 
private mission to make the acquaintance of some of 
the most eligible Princesses in Germany. There was, 
however, just then a great dearth of young ladies of 
high degree, and none of those she saw seemed to 
respond to the wished-for ideal, I alone accompanied 
the Princess on this secret tour of inspection, of which 
no one else knew. I never mentioned it to anybody 
till the following summer, when I was engaged to be 
married. My future husband being an Englishman 
and a diplomat, I knew he would be discreet, and I 
confided to him the dilemma of ' no Princess ' for the 
Prince of Wales. ' But I know the prettiest, the 
nicest, the most charming Princess,' he exclaimed ; 
* Princess Alix, the eldest daughter of Prince Christian, 
the future King of Denmark. She is only sixteen, 
and as good as she is pretty ! ' Armed with this 
knowledge, I went at once to the Princess and told her 
all about it. * You must tell the Queen at once as 
soon as you get to England, and find out all you can 
in the meantime,' she said. My husband, who had for 
two years already been Minister at Copenhagen, often 
had opportunities of seeing the young Princess, and 
in his letters to me during the time we were engaged 
always spoke of her in the most admiring terms, 

I now saw my opportunity, and when the Prince 
Consort spoke of his son I ventured to beg him to 



8o SCENES AND MEMORIES 

forgive me if I alluded to a subject that had been kept 
secret, but that perhaps he might remember that I 
accompanied the Princess the year before on a fruitless 
expedition to Germany ; but I now thought that the 
Princess so much searched for had been found, and I 
told him all I knew about Princess Alix. I heard him 
repeating it to the Queen, who was on his other side. 

After dinner her Majesty asked me many questions 
about the Princess Alix, and told me as soon as I had 
made her acquaintance to write to Princess Alice (then 
engaged to the future Grand Duke of Hesse) and send 
as many photographs as I could find. 

The journey to Copenhagen was not the easy and 
luxurious progress which it now is, especially in mid- 
winter. The trains were not heated nor were there 
any sleeping-carriages. The hour and a half from 
Altona to Kiel had to be accomplished at night in a 
wretched carriage over rough ground. Then came a 
six hours' crossing from Kiel to Korsoer, the boats 
frequently having to saw their way through the ice. 
At Korsoer there was a three hours' wait in a bare 
room at the station, and a slow train, starting at nine 
o'clock, landed us about noon at Copenhagen. 

The cold was intense and everything covered with 
snow, and I knew absolutely nobody, and did not for 
several days summon courage to go out. 

I was, however, cheered by receiving several 
delightful and affectionate letters from the Princess, 



A ROYAL MARRIAGE 8i 

of which I will give a few extracts, as they show her 
charming nature, which has not been sufficiently 
appreciated, and the happy, playful spirit of her 
younger years : — 

Berlin, December lo, i860. 

. . . You cannot think what a disappointment it 
has been for me not to see you here. It was a happi- 
ness to which 1 looked forward with the greatest 
impatience, and now I am deprived of it. That is 
really hard. I suppose Stockmar [Baron Stockmar, 
the Princess's secretary] has sent you the album. I 
wished to add something of mine to Marie's souvenir. 
[Countess Marie Lynar, the Princess's other maid of 
honour, had married three months before me, and 
gave me as a wedding present a book with drawings 
of my rooms at the New Palace. The Princess had 
added a charming allegorical drawing of our two 
weddings.] 

We three suited so well and were so happy to- 
gether, like three friends only can be who love each 
other truly. I can't at all get over the separation 
from you two. My thoughts are constantly occupied 
with you, and I miss you dreadfully. 

... It was with greatest pleasure that I painted 
the picture which is to be a remembrance of both your 
weddings and of the time we lived together. I had 
long promised to paint something nice for you, and 
never had been able to settle down to it, so I made 
use of the long evenings here at Berlin, as on account 
of the mourning we go nowhere, to finish this drawing. 
... I have never thanked you for your two dear 
letters, one from Windsor and the other one for my 
birthday ; we have envied you with all our souls for 
being able to be in England. You happy one ! . . . 
Fritz goes shooting to-day to Letzlingen and returns 



82 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

on Thursday. On the 28th we expect Alfred, but 
I am sorry to say only for two days ; the dear boy ! 
I tremble with impatience at the thought of at last 
seeing him once more. I wonder what you think of 
Alice's engagement ? We are all so pleased, and she 
swims in a sea of bliss. . . . When you see Anne 
[Princess Frederic of Hesse and daughter of Prince 
Charles of Prussia, and a much-loved friend and 
cousin of the Prince and Princess] please give her a 
thousand loves. . . . 

I should so much like to have a glimpse of your 
home at Copenhagen. ... It is extraordinary what 
things do happen. If only that one thing would 

happen, which is to see Countess D safe with her 

belongings, I would build at least one pyramid from 
gratitude. [The lady alluded to was an excellent 
but incapable person, attached to the Princess's 
household. Both she and the Prince were too kind 
to put an end to an impossible position.] How is 
Snowy ? Does this unfortunate little beast still live, 
or can he no more be teased by you ? Or has he been 
gathered to his forefathers in a strange land because 
the family burying place in the summer theatre no 
more belongs to you ? 

My love of animals always was a joke against me, 
especially in those days when pets were not as common 
as they now are. The summer theatre was a place 
near the New Palace where I used to bury my mice, 
bats, birds, kittens, etc., when they came to grief. 
The Princess's letters were generally written in a 
mixture of German and English, as she chose the most 
telling expressions in each language, and this is lost 
in the translation. 



A ROYAL MARRIAGE 83 

A few days later the Princess wrote again : — 

I am sure you are furious with me that I have not 
yet answered your dear, long, amusing, and interesting 
letter, for which I thank you a thousand times. But 
Christmas is before the door, and you know how much 
there is always to do at this time. I cannot write 
you a long letter to-day, but wish you with all my 
heart a merry Christmas and a happy new year ; may 
the latter bring you many blessings. I shall think so 
much of you and Mary on the dear Christmas Eve, 
and I shall miss your dear face dreadfully. Countess 

D is now really gone over the hills and far away 

— that is, to Dresden — never to return. ' Johanna 
geht und nimmer kehrt sie wieder,' God bless the 
goody. At a distance I have the greatest respect for 
her sterling qualities. Please inform Mary of this 
great event or send her my letter. 

As soon as I had recovered from my journey I 
began my audiences with the Dowager Queen and the 
Princesses. The King, Frederic the Seventh, was 
married morganatically to Countess Danner. He 
was divorced from his wife, who since had married 
the Duke of Holstein Gluecksburg. His Majesty led 
a very retired life, and I only made his acquaintance 
two years after my arrival in Denmark. He was a 
tall, stout man, heavy, but with gleams of wit. He 
was devoted to the chase, and told most amusing 
stories. One very cold day, when my husband was 
out shooting with him, he said : * This is nothing to 
the day when Fredericksburg was burnt down. It 
was so cold then, that the water from the fire-engines 



84 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

froze into arches as it was spurted into the air, and 
therefore the castle could not be saved.' 

The Queen Dowager Amalie was the widow of 
Christian the Eighth. She was a handsome and most 
amiable old lady, very simple in all her ways, and 
extremely interesting when she spoke of her younger 
days. 

Princess Anne of Hesse, whom I had known so 
well at Berlin, was now living at Copenhagen, and 
this to me was a great help and comfort. Her hus- 
band. Prince Frederic, was the brother-in-law of 
Prince Christian (afterwards King Christian the 
Ninth). They had a fine palace in the same street 
in which the Legation was situated, and I often went 
to see this Princess, who was not only a charming 
woman but a great musician. There I frequently 
met Rubinstein, who was then quite a young man 
with a big mop of curly brown hair. He and the 
Princess used to play together, whilst I sat on the 
floor and played with the children and listened to 
this enchanting concert. 

I need not say that much my most interesting 
experience was my visit to Princess Louise (afterwards 
Queen of Denmark). Her Royal Highness had asked 
me to come quite informally, as she knew my hus- 
band so well and had often allowed him to visit her 
in the same way both in town and in the country. 
The Princess was still a very pretty woman, with fine 
blue eyes and a good figure. Prince Christian came 



A ROYAL MARRIAGE 85 

into the room whilst I was with the Princess, and we 
talked of his brothers, whom I remembered seeing in 
their smart Hussar uniforms as dashing young officers 
at my father's house in the country, when they were 
quartered near there, and also of his sisters, whom I 
had seen quite lately. There was a delightful charm 
of simplicity and kindness about Prince Christian 
which won all hearts, and the patriarchal and unosten- 
tatious setting of the family life of this Royal couple 
was most attractive. After I had been with Princess 
Louise for a little time, I said that my husband had 
so often spoken to me about Princess Alix that I 
hoped I might be allowed to see her. I was delighted 
when she came into the room, for I saw in her all the 
promise of her future lovehness and goodness. She 
was like a half-open rosebud, and so simple and child- 
like in everything. Later on I made the acquaintance 
of the other children. The eldest son (now King of 
Denmark) was then a good-looking stripling of 
seventeen, and Prince Willy (now King of Greece) a 
boy of twelve or thirteen, full of spirits and mischief. 
Princess Dagmar (Empress Mother of Russia) was 
quite a child still, with splendid dark eyes. Princess 
Thyra (Duchess of Cumberland) and Prince Waldemar 
were almost babies. It was charming to see the still 
youthful parents and their half-grown-up and growing 
children all so happy and united together in such 
natural, healthy, simple surroundings. 

I need hardly say that after this visit my 



86 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

correspondence with Princess Alix and the Princess 
(who by this time had, by the death of King Frederic 
WilHam the Fourth of Prussia, become Crown Princess) 
became very hvely. It is so full of intimate detail 
that I can only give short passages from the letters I 
received. I had many opportunities of seeing Prince 
and Princess Christian. The Prince sometimes came 
to see me, and I learnt to appreciate more and more 
his sterling qualities. 

The Crown Princess wrote to me in the spring of 
1861 :— 

You must not be angry with me for not having 
written and not thanked you myself for your dear, 
most interesting, and most excellent letter. How 
often I have positively longed to be able to write to 
you. But I was exhausted in body and in soul in 
England, and since I am back from there. Now I am 
better, but still so sad ! [The Duchess of Kent had 
died in March.] 

I have so many worries of every kind which take 
up all my time ; therefore, dear heart, you must 
pardon a very confused letter. ... I am especially 
grateful to you for your last letter, which is so full of 
the business I have so much at heart. I own that 
my interest increases the more I hear of the person 
in question, and also in England much good has been 
heard of her. What a pity were she to make another 
marriage. [I had told the Princess that I heard some 
rumours of this kind.] 

In the first place it would be desirable to find out 
whether she is not coming some time to Germany. I 
should be so enchanted to make her acquaintance. 

You have a certain talent in making naive remarks. 



A ROYAL MARRIAGE 87 

I should have no objection to your compromising me 
sHghtly, not as an official person, but as my friend, 
and if you were to be a little indiscreet about my 
interest in the young lady. 

The result of these letters and some more visits 
I paid to Princess Christian was that an arrangement 
was come to by which the Crown Prince and Princess 
were to announce themselves for a few days at Strelitz, 
whilst Princess Christian, accompanied by her two 
daughters, was paying a visit to her relations there. 
The Grand Duchess of Mecklenburgh was the Princess 
Ro^^al's cousin, and it was quite natural that she 
should wish to go and see her. 

The utmost secrecy was observed ; only Prince and 
Princess Christian, the Crown Prince and Princess, 
and my husband and myself knew. 

It was necessary to be very careful, for we all were 
aware that this marriage project just as the Schleswig- 
Holstein question was seething might raise great 
political objections in Germany. 

I confess that I awaited the Crown Princess's first 
letter after her visit with great impatience, but quite 
without any fear. It came the moment she returned 
from Strelitz : — 

Quite enchanted I returned from Strehtz, and you 
are the first to whom I hasten to impart my im- 
pressions. Princess Alix is the most fascinating 
creature in the world ! You did not say nearly 
enough. For a long time I have not seen anybody 



88 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

who pleased me so much as this lovely and charming 
girl. Not to speak of a Princess. . . . 

Princess Alix and I got to know each other very 
soon, and in those few days I have got to love her 
very dearly ; she is simply quite charming. I have 
never seen Fritz so taken by anybody as he was with 
her. 



I will only add now that I found Princess Christian 
very amiable and agreeable, and the little Dagmar a 
duck. 

A few days later the Crown Princess wrote again : — 

I shall now go to England and beg of you to tell 
Princess Christian this, and to add that I shall not 
fail to tell my parents of the favourable impression 
which the young Princess Alix has made on Fritz and 
me. ... I am sorry to say I am not certain whether 
Fritz can come with me ; to leave him behind would 
make me very unhappy, for I can enjoy nothing when 
he is not there, and shall feel lost even in my dear 
home if he is not there. Please write soon again. 

Soon after the Crown Princess's arrival in England 
I heard that both the Queen and the Prince Consort 
were very much in favour of the marriage, and quite 
delighted with the account the Crown Princess had 
given of Princess Alix. It was then settled that 
some time in the autumn the Prince of Wales was to 
meet Princess Alix, as if by chance, somewhere in 
Germany. 

Eventually the beautiful old Cathedral of Spiers 



A ROYAL MARRIAGE 89 

was chosen as a trysting-place, and, though the inter- 
view was quite short, the impression was a lasting one. 

Everything in this Royal romance seemed to be 
progressing most favourably. The Prince Consort 
especially seemed most anxious for its accomphsh- 
ment, when suddenly, like a thunderclap out of a 
blue sky, came the news of his death. 

His illness had been hardly noticed in the papers, 
and the tragic ending of it was quite unexpected. 
Everybody felt what a fearful blow it would be to the 
Queen, for her happy married life had been a bright 
example to all her subjects. My thoughts were con- 
tinually with the dear Crown Princess, who was 
singularly devoted to her father, with feelings in 
which love, respect and admiration had an equal part. 

Princess Anne, the friend and cousin of the Crown 
Princess, felt this acutely, and wrote to me a day or 
two after she heard the sad news : — 

I must tell you how wretched I am about my 
beloved cousin. To lose a father whom she loved so 
immeasurably ; so young, so unexpected, so sudden 
and terrible . . . read and see how utterly wretched 
she is. . . . If you have any details about the illness, 
the death, and the state of the poor, deeply tried 
Queen, I should be so grateful to you if you would 
keep me informed, as the Prince and I and all of us, 
as you know, take the sincerest interest in this painful 
event. 

My husband was terribly shocked and grieved at 
the death of the Prince Consort, for whose high 



90 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

abilities he entertained the greatest admiration. I 
think it will be interesting if I give some extracts 
of letters from Countess Bluecher to him, as they 
corresponded much at that time. 

Countess Bluecher {nee Dallas) had been for 
many years a trusted and devoted friend of the Queen 
and Crown Princess, with whom she often spent many 
months at a time. She wrote from Berlin, the 15th 
of January : — 

... I wish I could give you a better account of 
our dear Crown Princess here. She is very miserable 
and has bursts of grief which are painful to witness. 
I don't think she will recover any settled composure 
till she has seen her mother again and talked over 
the sad past. Her health at present is very good, but 
I am always in fear that the continual emotions may 
be detrimental to her. She certainly has the kindest 
and most devoted of nurses (I may almost say) in the 
excellent Crown Prince, who seems to think of nothing 
else but how to try to alleviate her sorrow. . . . 

And then a month later Countess Bluecher wrote from 
Windsor : — 

February 25, 1862. 

You will like to hear what are my impressions of 
the state of our beloved Queen. I found her looking 
much older and with a careworn impression, but she 
appears in health and her state as natural as possible, 
I think, if one considers that it is only a little more 
than two months since she lost all she loved best on 
earth. The Queen talks much of the Prince's illness 
and death with calm and resignation, and then falls 



A ROYAL MARRIAGE 91 

into other subjects, of which she speaks with com- 
posure and interest. 

I can conceive nothing more admirable than her 
demeanour. She hves entirely with her children, 
seeing the members of her household at times, as well 
as the Ministers, and she has often one or the other 
of her ladies at dinner. Can more be expected ! 
One is filled with grief and sympathy when one looks 
at the Queen in her widow's dress and thinks of the 
weight of affliction she has to bear. . . . 

As the summer approached I had urgent calls 
from the Crown Princess, who wished me to spend 
some time with her at Potsdam. I was most anxious 
to obey, and I started for Berlin the beginning of 
June. 

Some extracts from my letters to my husband 
will give a more vivid picture of the sad state I found 
the Crown Princess in than I could give in writing 
from recollection after so great a lapse of time : — 



Potsdam, 8/6/1862. 

. . , Here I found the dear Princess all kindness 
and love ; poor, dear Princess. She spoke of those 
happy days we spent together, but she said she would 
not speak of her loss that evening. The first thing 
almost she said was that I was to tell you that you 
must come to Berhn on your way to England and 
stay a day, as she was most anxious to speak to you 
about several things. . . . It's about Princess A.'s 
marriage ; she wants you to remove the political 
scruples and difficulties, for the Crown Prince and 
Princess think it might lead to trouble in Germany. 



92 SCENES AND MEMORIES 



Potsdam, 10/6/1862. 

. . . Boykins [this was my little son whom the 
Crown Princess had insisted upon my bringing with 
me] meets with admiration wherever he goes. Yester- 
day the King [who became the Emperor WilUam] 
asked to see him, and the moment baby came in he 
said, ' He has got his papa's beautiful eyes,' and then 
he got up from his chair and made me a low bow, and 
said, * Je vous en fait mon compliment ! ' 

Poor dear Princess ! she feels so lonely sometimes, 
and now she is getting back into all her old ways with 
me she feels it more and speaks of things she generally 
never mentions. She showed me yesterday a beautiful 
coloured photograph done after the Prince Consort's 
death, and she had some of his hair, which she kisses 
and cries so much, poor dear. She says she never can 
be happy again, and that with him she has lost every- 
thing. Certainly with him she has lost her chief 
counsellor and stay. 

June 16, 1862. 

. . . The Princess gave me to-day a heartrending 
letter from the poor Queen to read. I could not help 
crying whilst I read it. . . . She says her pulse is 90 
instead of being 75, and she says she feels so weak. 
She writes so touchingly and naturally. 

June 24, 1862. 

. . . The Crown Princess tells me that the Queen 
goes to Windsor on the 21st and to Scotland on the 
22nd, and we must manage to be there before that 
time. . . . There is such good news about the Prince 
of Wales, and the Queen calls him her dear darling 
boy, whom she always wished to see thus excellent 
and grown up beside his adored young father, . . . 



A ROYAL MARRIAGE 93 

I had regretfully to leave the dear Crown Princess, 
but not before matters had so far proceeded that it 
was arranged that some time in September, whilst 
Prince and Princess Christian and their family were 
taking sea-baths at Ostend, the Queen should pay a 
short visit to her uncle, King Leopold, at Brussels, 
where a meeting was to take place. 

Whilst I was staying with my relations in Saxony 
the Crown Princess wrote to me : — 



. . . You will have heard what a truly terrible 
misfortune has fallen upon my poor mamma in the 
death of General Bruce [the Prince of Wales's Gover- 
nor]. It is a hard blow, an irreparable loss . . . 
which pains me unspeakably. Every misfortune 
appears now to fall on our family, which formerly 
had no idea what unhappiness was. The Queen has 
written to me several times with such contentment 
about my brother ; the feeling between them is such 
a good one that I cannot help copying out for you a 
passage from mamma's letter, because I am certain 
that you will rejoice with me over it ; then there is a 
message from mamma to you, which I also give ver- 
batim. ' Bertie goes on being as good, amiable, and 
sensible as any one of us could wish. It is such a 
comfort to feel that dear General Bruce's anxious 
efforts and wishes have not been in vain. Bertie is 
most anxious about his marriage, and hopes it may be 
in March or April, and has bought numbers of pretty 
things for the young lady. . . .' 

It appears to me no one could wish for anything 
better. The expression of these words is so just, and 
yet so gentle and loving. God protect my beloved 
brother and the dear lovely young creature, and 



94 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

unite them to their happiness and the welfare of 
England. ... 



As soon as my husband was at liberty to leave 
Copenhagen, we went to England and were at once 
invited to Osborne. 

We both of us had several long and interesting 
interviews with her Majesty, but always apart. The 
Queen used to sit near the writing-table in the room 
which was the Prince Consort's study. She looked 
very much crushed and sad, but always brightened 
up when the Prince of Wales's marriage was the topic 
of conversation. She told me that she felt it a sacred 
duty to do all she could for this marriage, as the Prince 
Consort had wished it very much, for he had been so 
taken with all he had heard about Princess Alix. The 
Queen said it was her desire that we should accompany 
her to Brussels ; as we knew the Danish Royal Family 
so well, it would make things easier. I naturally kept 
Princess Christian informed of all I saw and heard, 
and during the following weeks our correspondence 
was a most lively one. 

There was so much to arrange and to think of, and 
though both Prince and Princess Christian were so 
happy at the prospect of this marriage for their be- 
loved daughter, they were also anxious not to advance 
themselves too much. Also a good many political 
and other impediments had to be overcome, but 
at last both the Royal Famihes were assembled 



A ROYAL MARRIAGE 95 

at Brussels under the wise and kind auspices of King 
Leopold. 

The first meeting between the Queen and Princess 
Alix took place one morning in the King's writing- 
room, where all his children and the Danish Royalties 
were assembled. 

The Queen sat in a small boudoir adjoining this 
room. I was alone with her. Her emotion was very 
great, and, suddenly bursting into tears, she said, 
' Oh, you can understand what I feel. You have a 
husband you love, and you know what I have lost.' 

I was so deeply moved myself at seeing the Queen's 
grief and emotion that I could say but little to comfort 
her. The happiness she hoped for, for her beloved son, re- 
called to her memory her own perfect union, so suddenly 
broken up. . . .It was a rehef to me when a page came 
in to say that all the Royalties were assembled. The 
Queen motioned me to precede her, which I did, and 
after presenting Princess Christian to her I retired to 
the little boudoir again, as I thought my presence 
was quite unnecessary. I sat down, tired by the 
journey, the continual driving to and fro between 
Brussels and Laaken, where the Queen lived, and I 
suppose, above all, by the anxiety I could not help 
feeling about a thing I had so much at heart, and 
which for the last year had filled my thoughts so 
much. 

It will therefore be readily believed that when 
after half an hour the Oueen returned to the boudoir 



96 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

quite enchanted and immensely pleased and delighted 
with Princess Alix, I felt sincerely happy. 

The next day there was a great dejeuner at Court. 
After it the guests walked about in the gardens. It 
was then the Prince of Wales proposed to Princess 
Alix, and immediately after this the engagement was 
made public. It was touching to see the Queen's 
delight at the prospect of her son's happy marriage, 
and it was with a lighter heart that she continued 
her journey to Reichardtsbrunn to pay a visit to her 
brother-in-law, the Duke of Coburg. 

The Queen naturally wished to make a closer 
acquaintance with Princess Alix before her marriage, 
and it was therefore arranged that the young Princess 
should pay her a visit at Windsor in November. 

I was the first to inform Princess Christian of the 
excellent impression she had made, and Princess 
Christian answered : — 

Heartfelt thanks for the good news, the first which 
I received, and which gave me great pleasure naturally, 
especially that everything went off so quietly, for I 
do not wish her to be seen in England before the 
marriage. I thank you also for the paper (with the 
Prince and Princess's portraits in it), and to read this 
yesterday (the Prince of Wales's birthday) on the 
important day, appeared to me a good augury. God 
bless the dear young couple. My dear daughter 
telegraphed to me yesterday evening, as on the day 
on which she could not think of him apart from 
me. . . . 



A ROYAL MARRIAGE qy 

The Prince of Wales was not at Windsor during 
the Princess's stay, but when Prince Christian came 
to escort his daughter back from England the Prince 
joined them at Calais and travelled back two days 
with them. 

The Queen, with her wonderful forethought and 
knowledge, made all the arrangements for the marriage. 
I possess a large batch of letters from General Grey, 
the Queen's Private Secretary, which are simply 
transcripts of her wishes and orders, and in which she 
goes into all details with the utmost clearness and 
method. 

The wedding day was eventually settled for the 
loth of March, but there were some fears that the 
elements might interpose at that early season, for 
communications with the mainland were sometimes 
interrupted for many days by great icefloes. 
Fortunately this was a mild winter, and such a 
contretemps did not occur. 

My state of health at that time precluded my 
accompanying the Princess Alix to England, which 
I regretted very much ; but I went to bid her good- 
bye at the Palace, and found her very bright and 
cheery. She wore a dress of brown silk with white 
stripes, and one of those natty little bonnets which 
seemed to sit better on her head than on anybody 
else's. Even in those early days I was struck by the 
extreme neatness and taste of her attire. 

My husband was entrusted with all arrangements 



98 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

for the Princess's journey, and I will give a few 
extracts from his letters. 

After saying how well the Danish Royal Family 
was received everywhere in Denmark, he writes from 
Hamburg : — 

The Princess behaves with great dignity and 
affability to all deputations, etc. We dined at the 
Duke of Gluecksburg, at Kiel ; the Schloss was crowded 
with young ladies all up the staircase, etc. . . . 

And then from Hanover : — 

There was a guard of honour, and everything that 
was proper. The King visited the Royal Family 
soon after their arrival, and they dined with him 
afterwards. . . . 

On board the Victoria and Albert he continues : — 

This is something like traveUing on board this 
yacht, with every comfort and luxury one can possibly 
think of. . . . On arriving at Flushing, the Resistance 
and Revenge manned yards and saluted us. We 
stopped the engines so as to drift by them slowly. 
The men were facing us as we approached, and on our 
passing they turned round as if by magic. . . . The 
Princess stood on the paddle-box, and bowed very 
gracefully. . . . All the of&cers on board think Prin- 
cess Alix charming. A woman in the crowd at Cologne 
said, ' Oh, this is a dear little thing ! ' . . . We have 
just got under weigh and are steaming up to Graves- 
end. . . . The Prince of Wales is to come on board at 
11.30. . . . The Mayor and Corporation of Margate 
came on board with an address, with which I found 
Princess Alix pounding Prince Willy's [King of Greece] 
head. They are all very jolly and nice together. 



A ROYAL MARRIAGE 99 

Windsor Castle, Sunday, March 8. — As for yester- 
day, I shall not attempt a description of it . . . such 
a crowd is almost beyond imagination ... I have 
just been to see the presents . . . the tiara given by 
the Prince of Wales is splendid. 

Here I was called to the Queen. She said she was so 
sorry you had not been able to come. ... I was with 
Her Majesty for about half an hour, and it is impossible 
for me to tell you all we spoke about. She says 
Princess Alix is quite like one of her own daughters. 
She is very fond of her indeed. . . . 

March 10. — It is all over. . . . Such a magnificent 
sight I could never have dreamt of as that in St. 
George's Chapel. They both went through the cere- 
mony admirably. She looked beautiful, and spoke 
out capitally. Everybody is in rapture both at her 
looks and behaviour and bearing. . . . 



I have only given short extracts from these letters, 
which were full of most interesting details. 

The many deeply interesting letters from the 
Crown Princess and a still larger number from Princess 
Christian, Countess Bluecher's letters, and very long 
and important ones from General Grey relating to 
the political situation as affected by this alliance, will 
in future times form a very important addition to 
the history of that day, and throw many and quite 
unexpected lights upon some of the events and persons 
who played a part in these negotiations, some of whom 
I have not even mentioned. 

This Royal marriage absorbed so much of my 



100 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

attention and interest during the first two years of 
my stay in Denmark that I have not been able to give 
any idea of the country as it then was, or of the social 
life at Copenhagen. In the next chapter I will try to 
recall my impressions of some other interesting events 
which I witnessed there, and of the wonderful northern 
nature of which this was my first experience. 



CHAPTER V 

RECOLLECTIONS OF COPENHAGEN IN THE SIXTIES 

The previous chapter related how my husband in his 
capacity of British Envoy to Denmark had accompanied 
the ' Sea-kings' daughter ' to her future home. 

He had hardly returned to Copenhagen when 
another question concerning European politics, and 
particularly the Danish Royal Family, began to occupy 
the public mind. This was the choosing of a king 
for the Greek throne. King Otho of Greece having 
been deposed by his subjects in 1862, a provisional 
Government ■ was formed and a Constitutional Assem- 
bly elected, in which the names of various members 
of reigning houses were discussed as eligible occupants 
of the Greek throne. 

The Prince selected was Prince Alfred of England 
(later Duke of Edinburgh and Duke of Coburg-Gotha), 
and a formal offer of the Crown was made to him. 
Apart from other considerations, such an offer could 
not be accepted owing to an understanding between 
the Great Powers that no member of any of their 
reigning houses should accept the vacant throne. 



102 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

The choice eventually fell upon Prince William, 
second son of Prince Christian of Denmark, who was 
then in England for the marriage of his daughter. 
Earl Russell, Minister for Foreign Affairs, brought the 
subject under the notice of Prince Christian through 
General Oxholme, the Prince's trusted friend and 
adviser. Sir Augustus Paget was at the same time 
instructed to lay the proposal before the Danish 
Government. 

I may as well say that Prince and Princess Christian 
were from the beginning very averse to the idea. 
Their family life was a very happy one, and the thought 
that their son, not yet grown up, was to take up so 
arduous a position so far away was a most painful one 
to them. 

Monsieur Hall, Minister for Foreign Affairs in 
Denmark, showed considerable surprise, accompanied, 
however, by a certain admixture of pride and satis- 
faction, on the proposal being made to him, and 
promised to bring it immediately before the King, 
Frederic the Seventh, who was then at Fredensborg, 
fifteen miles from Copenhagen. 

It was agreed that no decision should be taken 
until Prince Christian's return from England ; there 
was, however, some soreness on the part of the King 
at no communication having as yet been made to him. 

Sir Henry Elliot was sent out on a special mission 
to Athens, with orders to enjoin patience upon the 
Greeks ; but even whilst matters were thus in suspense 



RECOLLECTIONS OF COPENHAGEN 103 

at Copenhagen the news suddenly arrived that the 
Greek Assembly had proclaimed Prince William 
as their future King, under the style and title of 
King George the First, and that a deputation was 
about to start to make the formal offer of the Crown 
to the Prince. 

It is impossible to exaggerate the consternation 
and dismay which this announcement produced upon 
the King and the Danish Government, for everything 
connected with this matter had hitherto been treated 
in the most secret and confidential manner. Monsieur 
Hall at once called upon my husband to express the 
surprise and annoyance of the King as well as his own, 
and seemed to imply that Sir Augustus had been 
guilty of indiscretion, which impression he, however, 
was able to remove at once by reading to the Danish 
Minister his telegrams and despatches to Lord Russell. 

Sir Augustus now received the most urgent in- 
structions to secure the acceptance of the Greek 
Crown by Prince William. 

He had already taken steps to assure himself of 
the assent of the King, which was formally given, 
subject to Prince Christian and his family acquiescing. 
Up to this time Prince Christian had not communicated 
with the King on this subject, and the latter was 
considerably irritated. 

All that was known of Prince Christian's sentiments 
was that he was opposed to his son's acceptance, 
and he was backed up in tliis by public feehng in 



104 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Copenhagen, and by the members of his own family — 
namely, the Landgrave and Landgravine of Hesse, 
parents of his wife, and Prince Frederic of Hesse, his 
brother-in-law, who all deprecated it, as well as some 
of the Prince's most intimate friends and advisers. 

Prince Christian was indeed in a most difficult 
position, and when he returned on the 4th of April 
(1863) he at once came to see my husband, who was 
in bed with a bad attack of intermittent fever, in 
order to talk matters over. The interview lasted 
over two hours, and there was another one later in 
the day ; after which Prince Christian, coming into 
my room, complained to me that he had been most 
unfairly treated in matters having been pushed so far 
without its having previously been ascertained whether 
he was a consenting party or not. 

The Prince, in order to prevent this separation 
from a beloved son, put forward wholly unacceptable 
conditions. My husband had, however, found out 
that Prince ' Willy ' (as he was always f amiharly called) 
was, with the enterprise natural to an intelligent lad, 
anxious to assume the proposed dignity, and the 
young Prince, meeting him one day skating on the 
ice, confirmed this to him, upon which Sir Augustus 
said : ' If you will stick to it. Sir, I promise to pull you 
through,' and the Prince assented. 

This strengthened my husband's hands in con- 
ducting the negotiations, which, however, were strenu- 
ously opposed all through. It was an arduous task, 



RECOLLECTIONS OF COPENHAGEN 105 

requiring much patience, perseverance, and delicate 
handling, but it was accomplished. 

The Greek deputation arrived at Copenhagen on 
the 25th of April, and were most graciously received 
by the King on the 27th. We gave them a dinner, 
and, unaccustomed as I then was to southern types, 
I thought I had never seen before such an assemblage 
of romantic, adventurous, but rather terrifying coun- 
tenances. Old Canaris, the head of the deputation, 
sat next to me, and he did not know one word of 
French or English, so we conversed by signs or in a 
ghastly jumble of Italian, Latin, and ancient Greek. 
Canaris had been one of the leaders of the War of 
Independence, and had sacked, pillaged, and burned 
to his heart's content. To me he was benign. 

Some knotty points still remained to be settled. 
The deputation complained to Sir Augustus that they 
had been unduly hurried on their journey before things 
had been settled, and they even threatened to leave 
Copenhagen without making the offer unless every- 
thing was arranged within a few days. The situation 
was most embarrassing, for England was in a way 
standing sponsor to this affair; and though both 
France and Russia guaranteed 4000/. a year to the 
Prince in case he was deposed, they did not otherwise 
take any active part. 

At last all the difficulties were removed, and the 
formal ceremony of the acceptance of the Crown of 
Greece for Prince William by the King of Denmark 



io6 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

took place at the Palace of Christiansborg on Saturday 
the 6th of May, in the presence of all the Princes of 
the Royal Family, the Danish Ministers and State 
Officers, and the Ministers of the three protecting 
Powers. 

Lord Russell, who was extremely popular with all 
those with whom he had to do on account of his good- 
nature and kind heart, had, however, sometimes a 
very peculiar way of showing his regard. My husband 
received from him the entire approval of Her Majesty's 
Government for the manner in which he had conducted 
these negotiations, but as a reward he was to accept 
the Mission at Athens in order to ensure things going 
smoothly there in the beginning ! Athens was in 
those days only a third-class Mission ; Lord Russell, 
it is true, offered to raise it to a first-class one ; and 
my husband was to receive the G.C.B., so that there 
was to be no misunderstanding in the eyes of the 
world. Still, Athens was very much less in importance 
than Copenhagen. My husband accepted reluctantly. 
To our great relief, however, the Queen thought Sir 
Augustus's presence at Copenhagen just then of so 
much importance that the arrangement did not take 
place. 

King George left Copenhagen on the 17th of Sep- 
tember for Athens. He was accompanied by Count 
Sponneck, a very clever man, as confidential adviser, 
but he did not turn out a success, and he returned to 
Copenhagen within less than two years. 



RECOLLECTIONS OF COPENHAGEN 107 

Some of General Grey's letters (at that time Private 
Secretary to the Queen) throw interesting sidelights 
on this question. 

General the Hon. Charles Grey to Sir A. Paget. 

[Private.] Balmoral, May igth, 1863. 

. . . Your account of your Greek difficulties 
interests me, and also amused me very much. 

Amused me, for I had found in many of the tele- 
grams and despatches many of the selfsame suggestions 
I had made from Brussels, with a view of smoothing 
matters for the acceptance of the Greek throne for 
the Duke of Coburg [this was not Prince Alfred of 
England, but his uncle, the brother of the Prince 
Consort], the only difference being that while my 
suggestions were pooh-poohed, yours met at least 
with respectful consideration. But Lord Russell had 
not then learned that it was not quite so easy a matter 
to find a Sovereign for Greece, and that the Duke 
was not so far wrong when he said that there were 
certain questions which must be satisfactorily answered 
before any Prince, not a mere adventurer, would 
consent to accept so precarious a condition as that of 
King of Greece. Of this I am certain, that had half 
the disposition been shown by our Government in 
the Duke's case to remove the difficulties, that has 
been shown in Prince William's, the Duke at this 
moment might have been King of Greece. . . . The 
Duke retaining his own German possessions, he asked 
no retiring allowance in case of dismissal, but he 
asked for a sufficient Civil List ; and this I suggested, 
as you did, should be secured on the revenues of the 
Ionian Islands. He asked for the means of reorga- 
nising the army, without which it was vain to try to 
restore order or to keep the ' Grand idea ' in check, 



io8 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

and the backing he sought might, I suggested, be 
given by the non-withdrawal, for a certain period, of 
our Ionian garrisons and the presence of our fleet ; 
but our Government met all these not very unreason- 
able requests with the shortest and coldest answers. 
He must accept the throne of Greece, purely and 
simply, trusting to his own resources to work out his 
salvation, and was coolly referred to the money market, 
' though he would doubtless have to pay high interest,' 
for any pecuniary aid he might require. But at this 
time Lord Russell thought there were fifty stray 
Princes eager to don the Greek diadem. . . . 

If we put a King on the throne of Greece, to restore 
order to that country, to maintain the peace of the 
East in spite of the insane Greek desire to disturb it, 
we ought at least to give him some support in up- 
holding our policy, and secure him, as far as we can, 
from the fate of Otho. 

That fate would be a certainty for any Prince 
thrown as naked as Ulysses on the coast of Phocea, 
with none but his personal resources. . . . ' That 
most tiresome question,' as King Leopold most justly 
calls it, of Sleswig-Holstein, seems to come again into 
prominence, and the debate the other night in the 
Lords is not, I fear, calculated to make its settlement 
more easy. There will be a great deal of talk before 
the threatened exclusion, unless, indeed, matters go 
on so rapidly at Berlin that Bismarck may think 
Prussian action in Holstein a desirable diversion from 
their home disputes. I have never believed that such 
a contest as the King has engaged in with the 
Chambers would go on long without getting beyond 
mere words. The last telegrams from Buchanan 
point to the imminence of a dangerous crisis, and 
whatever the immediate consequences may be, I have 
no doubt as to what the ultimate results must be. I 
only hope our Crown Prince and Princess may not be 



RECOLLECTIONS OF COPENHAGEN 109 

involved in the misfortunes which, sooner or later, 
the King is sure to bring on his family. 

May 21 si, 1863. 

. . . The Crown Princess telegraphs to the Queen 
that she knows of no intention that makes any change 
in their own line necessary at present. Buchanan 
speaks of a closing of the Chambers, Ordinances 
altering the Articles of the Constitution, restricting 
liberty of the Press, &c., &c. . . . Charles Grey. 

General Grey was an exceedingly clever and 
moderate man, trusted by the Queen entirely and 
without restriction. He belonged to a family of 
statesmen and had always been in the midst of politics, 
yet it will be seen how little even he understood 
Bismarck's ulterior views or the character of the 
King of Prussia, that King whose memory as Emperor 
William the First is even now cherished and revered 
by every patriotic German heart. 

This now almost forgotten question of Schleswig- 
Holstein had, at that time, been brewing and simmering 
for several decades. It was a most intricate one, and 
I have heard it said that Mr. Morier (later Sir Robert 
Morier and Ambassador at St. Petersburg) was the 
only Englishman who ever understood it. In some 
ways it resembled the Boer question, and quite espe- 
cially in the manner in which it roused the violent 
partisanship of nations who really had nothing to do 
with it. 

At the time of the Prince of Wales's marriage 



no SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Lord Russell had promised my husband to grant him 
a long leave of absence for the next winter, as he 
suffered much from ague at Copenhagen. These 
new political complications, however, put that out of 
the question for the moment, and I therefore went 
with my two children to pay a visit to my relations in 
Germany. I give some extracts from my husband's 
letters and my own, to show how high the feeling 
ran both in Germany and in Denmark, and what a 
maddening, never-ending, protean question it was. 

Sir A. Paget to Lady Paget. 

October 12th, 1863. 

... I am trying hard to get a concession out of 
these people, but I don't know whether I shall succeed. 
This business is really enough to tire out anyone, and 
requires a larger stock of patience than, I am afraid, 
I shall ever possess. . . . 

October 13. ... I was at Hall's [Danish Prime 
Minister] at 9I this morning, all the way out at his 
country-seat. Oh, dear ! I wonder whether any 
good will come of it at last. It has been necessary 
to employ the battering-ram [this was an expression 
invented, I think, by Mr. Lytton, then First Secretary 
at Copenhagen, and used in fun by all the Secretaries 
when Sir Augustus got very angry] very copiously, and 
somebody's hair stood very much on end. [M. Hall 
had a way of ruffling his hair when he was agitated.] 

October 15, ... I have got something from the 
Danes, and if the Germans really wish for an excuse 
not to proceed with hostile measures, it will be enough 
to enable them to be peaceful. . . . 



RECOLLECTIONS OF COPENHAGEN iii 

October 20. . . . My spirits have been somewhat 
damped by a communication from Hall. It's always 
the same thing ; they lead you to hope that they 
are going to follow your advice, and when it comes 
to the point they don't do it, or do it in a way 
that it's of no use. I am sick, sick, sick of the whole 
concern, and wish from my heart that I had nothing 
whatever to do with it. . . . 

October 21. ... I can only write a few lines, I 
have such an immensity to do. ... I really am 
worried to death. . . . but there is no end to this 
never-sufficiently-to-be-hated question, and every day 
there is some new difficulty or confusion . . . but 
there is no option but to keep at wheel, and so the 
less said about it the better. . . . 

October 23. ... I think if I am worried much 
longer as I now am with telegrams, &c., &c., I shall 
end by becoming a driveUing idiot. It beats the 
Greek question, which is saying not a httle. . . . 

October 28. ... I am very sorry to hear your 
uncle [Count Hohenthal, Saxon Minister at Berlin, 
and persona grata at both Courts] has gone off with 
such warlike instructions, because I have been in hopes 
that if the Germans were reasonable what the Danes 
have now done would stop the execution. . . . 

November 2. . . , There is something about this 
business which seems peculiar to it — viz. that even 
when one thinks one has got everything all right 
it turns out that something has been omitted or 
put in a different way from what one had expected 
or been led to expect. It is very tiresome and 
disheartening. . . . 



112 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

November 3. ... I suppose the Committee of 
the Diet will present their Report on Thursday, and 
that will give one some insight into the future. . . . 

November 8. . . . The Danes have really behaved 
very well in these last times, and though there 
has been occasionally some little trouble attending 
it, they have done all they could, and may now 
say all they have been asked. ... I certainly never 
thought I should see the end of this question, and I 
will not be too sanguine ; but if Germany is only 
reasonable we are certainly further on the road to an 
ultimate solution than we have ever yet been. Lord 
Russell has come out wonderfully in this business, 
and it does him the highest credit and honour for 
having put it in such practical shape and disencum- 
bered it of all its obscurity and compHcation. . . . 

November 9, . . . The Emperor [of the French] 
has sent his invitation out for the Congress. The 
King here has got one, and is told, like all the rest, of 
course, that besides his Plenipotentiaries if he likes 
to come himself he'll be welcome. These people will, 
of course, accept, and it will be difficult for others to 
refuse, I should fancy so. I hope we may look upon 
execution as definitely set aside. . . . 

November 13. . . . The truth of the proverb, 'Give 
a dog a bad name,' was never more fully proved 
than in the case of the Emperor's proposal for a Con- 
gress. ... I think his letter of invitation, which you 
will have seen in the papers probably, an admirable 
one. It is impossible Europe can go on much longer 
as it is now — the Congress appears a chance, although 
a faint one, of a peaceful solution of many questions 
... it appears, however, that our Government is not 
likely to agree to it. . . . 



RECOLLECTIONS OF COPENHAGEN 113 

November 15. ... I have omitted to tell you 
that poor old Kongen [Danish for King] has been for 
some days very unwell with erysipelas in the face. 
The illness appears now to have taken the most 
alarming symptoms. A bulletin was issued this 
morning, from which it appears he has a great deal 
of fever, gets no sleep, and is delirious. We shall 
have a nice complication if he dies. , , . 

November 16. — Poor old Kongen died yesterday 
at 2.35 in the afternoon. I have been this morning 
to hear King Christian IXth proclaimed from the 
balcony of Christiansborg Slot. He appeared on the 
balcony immediately afterwards, and was loudly 
cheered. The poor old Kongen will be very much 
regretted, and deservedly so ; for notwithstanding 
many things, he had, as I have often said, many good 
qualities as a King. Prince Christian's accession takes 
place at a most critical juncture — it's quite impos- 
sible the execution can take place under the present 
circumstances, unless the German Powers have lost 
all their sense of decency. . . . 

November 18. . . . Your beginning about Holstein 
amuses me a good deal. You are right in the 
relative positions you assign to the Diet and to Den- 
mark, in so far as the purely Federal question which 
extends to Holstein certainly is concerned . . . but 
there is also an International question on which the 
Diet and Denmark are on the footing of two inde- 
pendent Powers, and you would hardly have Denmark 
yield to everything in this, would you ? . . . The 
King has signed the new Constitution to-day. It is 
against his views, but the ferment throughout the 
country is such, he would not have kept his Crown if 
he hadn't. . . . 



114 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

November 21. . . . Carl Moltke is to be Minister 
for Holstein, which ought to please very much both 
the Duchies and Germany . . . not, however, that 
I expect anything that ever can or will be done here 
will ever be useful as far as conciHation goes, for 
Germany don't chuse to be satisfied with anything. 
... I am sorry, by the by, to see that you are dread- 
fully tainted with German notions, and believe all 
you hear on the question . . . for myself, I try to 
take a calm and dispassionate view of things. . . . 

November 24. ... As you tell me seriously 
that the impression in Germany is that the Augusten- 
burgs will get the Duchies, I must tell you seriously 
that your friends are as mystified on this subject as 
on others. ... I am really sick of all this cant and 
sophistry. ... I met the King yesterday, and walked 
with him to the Palace. He told me he had received 
the most kind message from the Queen on his ac- 
cession. I am so glad of this, and it is, of course, 
much better than having sent it through me. . . . 

November 25. — Baron Carl Plessen, the great 
Holstein man, has been sent for to undertake the 
Ministry for Holstein ... his influence there is 
immense ; and if he can bring his countrymen to 
inform the Diet that they are satisfied with the security 
for their interests, which his name will give them, and 
that they don't wish for an execution, I imagine the 
Diet, notwithstanding the belHgerent propensities of 
some of the minor German potentates, will find it 
difficult to carry out their hostile projects. Faisons 
des vceux done pour Plessen. His presence here, at all 
events, is a sign that amongst the respectable part of 
the Holsteiners there is no sympathy for the Augus- 
tenburgs. Not only is HE here, but also Count 
Blome and Count Reventlow Crimonil. 



RECOLLECTIONS OF COPENHAGEN 115 

November 27. . . . The resource I had some 
hopes in on Wednesday has failed. Plessen has 
refused positively to have anything to do with the 
Holstein Ministry under present circumstances. I 
had him with me for upwards of two hours on Wed- 
nesday evening, but all to no purpose. There is 
therefore only the chance of our mediation being 
accepted at Frankfort. . . . Besides this, though it 
must not be mentioned at present, Russia has proposed 
to send special Missions here from all the Powers who 
signed the London Treaty to compliment the King, 
and that they should at the same time be charged to 
make certain representations. This is a very good 
idea. . . . Really, I never saw anything hke the state 
Germany is in. What on earth is there in this infernal 
question that can excite them to this extent ! 

Here follow a few extracts from my own letters to 
show what the feeling was in Germany at that time. 

Lady Paget to Sir A . Paget. 

Knauthayn, October 6th, 1863. 

. . . My uncle [Count Hohenthal, Saxon Minister] 
says that nobody in Germany wants the execution, 
and a very little concession on the part of Denmark 
would prevent it ; but at the same time he says that 
nothing will set this eternal question at rest but a 
European war, which, however, the Germans would 
do anything to avoid at the present moment. , . , 

November 8. ... How beautifully worded the 
speech of the Emperor [of the French] is — but does 
it not look very threatening ? . . . 

November 10. . . . At Berhn the speech has 
caused great consternation, for it seems to be such 

1 2 



ii6 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

an impossible thing to bring a universal Congress 
together, and the end of it would be that everybody 
would have to submit to what the Emperor says. . . , 
I don't think any German Prince will go, for they look 
upon the proposal as more or less a trick, so that the 
Emperor may put himself above the others and bring 
a war on somewhere, for at peace he cannot Hve. . . . 

November i6. . . . My uncle arrived yesterday, 
quite unexpectedly, from Berlin ... he says Sir 
Andrew Buchanan [H.M.'s Minister at Berlin] never 
speaks of anything but the Holstein question, and is 
very Danish. . . . Since I am here, I rather see the 
Schleswig-Holstein question in another light. Till 
now I always understood that the German Bund and 
Denmark negotiated like two Powers on an equal 
footing ; but I find that here they consider that the 
Bund is the highest tribunal, to whose judgment 
Denmark is bound to submit as far as the Duchies are 
concerned, and if it does not, an execution takes 
place. . . . 

November 20. ... I think if you trust to the 
generosity of the German powers not to go on with 
the execution you will be very much deceived, and 
from their point of view it would be wrong to let the 
right moment pass and allow the Germans of the 
Duchies to be oppressed as in the past. ... I 
am dreadfully sorry for King Christian in this 
emergency. . . . 

November 21. . . . The execution seems un- 
avoidable since the King has signed the Constitution. 
Everybody here seems only too happy that the storm 
breaks there, and that the Congress question is 
forgotten. . . . 



RECOLLECTIONS OF COPENHAGEN 117 

November 25. . . . The irritation in Germany is 
very great. It is not at all certain whether France 
will stick to the Treaty of '52, and, indeed, M. de 
Talleyrand, at Berlin, behaves as if they were going 
to do quite the contrary. You'll see England will be 
left to fight it out alone. . . . The Crown Prince of 
Prussia has telegraphed four times to the Duke of 
Coburg to beg him to be moderate, and has not even 
received an answer. ... I will return to you about 
the 8th or gth of December ; I'm only waiting for the 
Princess Royal to return to Berlin to go there for a 
few days. . . . The execution is unavoidable ; the only 
person who has prevented it until now is Bismarck 
... it may even cost him his place if he holds out 
much longer. Even Sir Andrew, who is more Danish 
than the Danes, says that Bismarck is tout a fait 
correct. . . . 

November 27. — Thank you very much for your 
letter and the article in the Times, which, however, 
does not in the least change my ideas. The article 
only just shows that the man who wrote it has not 
the slightest idea of German affairs ; he does not even 
know the genealogy of the Royal Family aright, and 
calls the Landgravine the daughter of Frederic VI. 
I know more about the question than he does. . . . 

It may perhaps appear from these extracts that I 
took too much a Une of my own and ought not to have 
had any opinion at all, but it must be remembered 
that the Schleswig-Holstein question was one I had 
heard discussed all my life and belonged intrinsically 
to German pohtics. As far back as 1849, 1 remember 
my father travelling through the Duchies and telling 



ii8 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

us of many instances of oppression and injustice to 
which the Germans there were subjected. I can truly 
say that during the whole of that sad and difficult 
time I was only anxious dispassionately to get at the 
truth, which perhaps was an absurd pretension on 
my part, as so many clever people engaged in this 
controversy had never been able to do so. Yet 
my intention was good. 

When I returned to Copenhagen it was to find Sir 
Augustus, Mr. Lytton, all the other members of the 
Legation, and the Enghsh war correspondents, whom 
we constantly saw, violently Danish. Their feeling 
was a chivalrous one, for they saw in Denmark a 
small country bullied by two great Powers. I myself 
did not think that the German procedure was always 
quite correct, but I knew also that at the real core 
of the question the Germans were right. However, 
I learned to be silent. 

Twenty years later, one evening in Vienna, when 
my husband and I were talking over this question 
academically and dispassionately, he owned to me 
that, had he then been possessed of the information 
he now was, he would have taken another view of 
things. 

This winter of 1864 was a sad and weary one. 
Everybody was in deepest mourning for the late 
King, and the war soon broke out. 

I felt the keenest sympathy for the Danes, and 
quite especially for King Christian, whose kindness 



RECOLLECTIONS OF COPENHAGEN 119 

of heart, straightforwardness, and high sense of honour 
had endeared him to both my husband and to me. 

I shall never forget the impression the first carts 
full of wounded soldiers made on me as they passed 
under our windows. My heart went out to those poor 
men lying there and suffering for a cause which none 
of them understood on either side. We heard that 
the Tyrolese and Italian regiments fighting with the 
Austrians expressed their astonishment at people 
going to war for so ugly a country as Schleswig. A 
most pathetic incident was that of a poor young Lap 
woman just married, whose husband had to serve 
with the Danish troops. He had gone to the war and 
she had accompanied him to Copenhagen. During the 
three months of his absence she cried so much that 
when he came back she was blind. 

The winter was a very severe one, and we were 
often many days without letters, once even for three 
weeks. For eleven days during this time there was 
not even telegraphic communication, as the Germans 
had cut the wires. Now and then a telegram reached 
us by way of Sweden, but it was very rare that even 
that way was practicable. 

Prince Frederic of Hesse was in the habit of often 
coming to see me during this war. A German Prince 
married to a Prussian Princess and brother-in-law of 
the King, he had many ties on both sides, and was 
generally well informed. I remember that a week 
before the war actually broke out he paid me a visit 



120 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

and, walking up and down my room, he explained to 
me during two hours what madness it was in the Danes 
to try to hold the ' Dannewirke,' a huge fortification 
the manning of which would have required an army 
many times greater than the Danish one. 

In England it was confidently expected that they 
would hold it for many months, and at the very least 
for six weeks. 

Prince Frederic, whatever his other faults may 
have been, was a soldier and clever, and his reasoning 
was so cogent that I implored my husband to adopt 
his view and write in that sense to England ; but he 
believed the Danes, who were just then very bellicose, 
having received much encouragement from Lord 
Palmerston and Lord Russell, though I am bound to 
say that Sir Augustus told them on every occasion 
they must not expect anything but moral support. 

The Dannewirke was not held at all ; it was 
abandoned before the Germans attacked. 

Sir Augustus's sympathy with Denmark made 
him most anxious to induce King Christian to make 
such sacrifices at the right moment, as to ensure a 
more advantageous position in the future. One day 
when, after a long interview with my husband. King 
Christian came into my room, looking very tired and 
weary, he said : ' I have often been bullied and 
badgered in my life, but nobody has ever pushed me 
into a corner as badly as your husband has to-day.' 
I answered : ' It is because he has the welfare of 



RECOLLECTIONS OF COPENHAGEN 121 

Denmark and your Majesty's happiness so much at 
heart ' ; and this was the plain truth, and the King 
said he knew that he was a true friend to them. 

Lord Wodehouse, who later became Lord Kim- 
berley, was sent on a special mission during the winter 
to get further concessions from Denmark. He was 
accompanied by his brother Henry, who was in the 
diplomatic service, Mr. Philip Currie, and Mr. Sander- 
son, both in the Foreign Office. They were all very 
pleasant, and the weather being very cold we used to 
go out on skating expeditions along the canals, which 
were spanned by many low bridges. Lord Wodehouse, 
who was a heavy man and a splendid skater, used to 
go first, and we all followed in crouching position, 
holding on to each other and shooting through at a 
great rate. Mr. Lytton was the only member of the 
Legation who did not skate, as he hated the cold and 
was not fond of exercise. On the more civiUsed parts 
of the ice we frequently met the Royal children, 
Princess Dagmar (Empress Dowager of Russia) and 
Princess Thyra (Duchess of Cumberland) , accompanied 
by their brothers. 

I remember this skating as the one bright speck 
upon the greyness of that winter. 

For Lord Wodehouse it was also the only advan- 
tage he derived from his mission, for after three weeks 
he had to return to England without having obtained 
anything. The day after his departure, however, the 
knotty point was settled. 



122 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

The only more or less quiet time which I can 
remember during the five years I spent in Denmark 
was after the conclusion of the war, A fine summer 
was brightened still more at its close by the first 
visit of the Prince and Princess of Wales, after their 
marriage, to Denmark. 

Sir Augustus and I went to meet the Royal visitors 
at Elsinore, and as the Victoria and Albert steamed 
in, the fort, as well as the Danish men-of-war lying 
in the harbour, saluted. It was a fine day with 
splendid cumuli piled up against the horizon, and 
the solemn old castle and undulating hills covered 
with beautiful beech woods made a picturesque 
background. 

The Prince and Princess were received on shore 
by all the Royal Danish family and at once carried 
off to Fredensborg, a castle towards the centre of the 
island. 

I had been to Fredensborg once or twice during 
the reign of the late King when it was uninhabited 
and neglected. The place had an uncanny attraction 
for me — the park was vast and melancholy, and it 
was there that the unhappy Caroline Mathilda, the 
sister of George the Third, had principally lived, but 
not in the present modern palace. Of the one she had 
inhabited not a vestige is left, as the marshy ground 
upon which it was built has sucked it all in little by 
little. 

We followed the Prince and Princess there for a 



RECOLLECTIONS OF COPENHAGEN 123 

day or two, but the scene now was a very different 
one. Bright faces and happy voices filled the great 
and gorgeous rooms. The Prince of Wales, with the 
tact and kindness which always distinguished him, 
won all hearts, and the Princess was far more beautiful 
even than when she left Denmark, and the admiration 
of her country people for her and for Lady Spencer, 
one of the prettiest women in England, was unbounded. 
They were covered with splendid jewels and dressed 
in the latest fashions, which in those days were not 
disseminated everywhere as they now are. The King 
and Queen were radiant, especially as the Princess 
had brought her little son, their first grandchild, with 
her. It was a happy time for them and made up in 
some degrees for the sadness of past days. 

The rest of our time in Denmark was politically 
uneventful. In the spring of 1866 Lord Clarendon 
appointed my husband to Lisbon. Before our de- 
parture we went to Bernsdorff to take leave of the 
King and Queen. Princess Dagmar had just become 
engaged to the Czarewitch, who died the following 
winter of meningitis at Nice. He was on a visit at 
Bernsdorff and looked very dehcate indeed, the 
greatest contrast to his young fiancee in her bright 
pink frock, with the fire of life sparkling in her deep 
blue eyes and her rosy face framed in glossy dark hair. 

We parted from the King with feehngs of real 
regret and respectful friendship. He had always at 
the most difficult moments proved himself a thorough 



124 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Christian gentleman — courageous, truthful, gentle, and 
forgiving. The Queen I had always admired for her 
single-hearted devotion to her children and the charm 
with which she environed her family life. 

The thing of which I retain the most vivid re- 
membrance in Denmark is the first burst of spring. 
One day you have been out for an hour's exercise, 
muffled in your furs, the air as cold as ever, blowing, 
snowing, and not a hint of Nature awakening out of 
her long sleep. The next morning you open your 
astonished eyes upon a blue sky ; the sun is shining, 
the birds twitter, the air is still. The fruit-trees stand 
in great masses of solid white against a steel-blue sea, 
and farther on all along the shore the great beeches 
shine in a billowy line of verdant gold, so resplendent 
that the mind can hardly believe the evidence of the 
eye. This magic, however, only lasts a few days ; the 
leaves soon darken, and at the end of August already 
begin to be sere and ^^ellow and herald the approach 
of winter. 



CHAPTER VI 

RECOLLECTIONS OF PORTUGAL IN THE SIXTIES 

It was in the winter of 1859 that I first met the good 
and charming Princess Stephanie of Hohenzollern, 
the future Queen of Portugal, whose early and tragic 
death aroused at the time so much S5nnpathy and 
interest. She was even then engaged to Don Pedro, 
an exceptionally gifted young Sovereign, whose head 
and heart gave promise of a most felicitous reign and 
happy days for the country he was to govern. 

The Princess Stephanie was, when I saw her at 
Weimar, under the protection of the Princess of 
Prussia, later Empress Augusta of Germany. This 
kind and highly endowed Princess loved to have young 
girls about her, and as her own ladies were of mature 
age, she often borrowed me from her daughter-in-law 
(the Princess Frederic William of Prussia, Princess 
Royal of England), whose lady-in-waiting I was. 

The Princess of Prussia had come to Weimar to 

be present at the birthday of her beloved mother, the 

Grand Duchess Maria Palowna of Saxe-Weimar, who 

was the eldest daughter of the Emperor Paul of Russia 

125 



126 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

and the sister of the Emperor Nicholas. The Grand 
Duchess was a most venerable and dignified old lady, 
the very prototype of a great and benign Princess. 
Her children adored her, and the Princess of Prussia 
never missed coming to her mother's birthday wherever 
she might be at the time. 

The Princess of Prussia had not, at that period, 
won for herself the sympathies of the nation, but 
those who knew her well appreciated her great quali- 
ties and were not astonished that, when more scope 
was given to them, as Queen and Empress, public 
opinion should have entirely veered round in her 
favour. 

She had a shghtly stilted way of speaking and a 
rather artificial manner, contracted from having been 
obliged as a child to make ' cercle ' before the trees 
of the parks belonging to the castles where the 
Grand-ducal family happened to be living, each tree 
representing a gentleman or lady of the Court, to 
whom she had to say an amiable thing. 

It was the middle of a very hard winter and we 
started from Berlin in the dark, arriving at Weimar 
after midnight. During nearly the whole of the 
journey the Princess insisted upon reading out the 
papers to me, which she could only accomphsh by 
sitting upon the arm of the seat, so as to get as near 
as possible to the dingy and dirty oil-lamp of the 
unwarmed ordinary railway compartment in which 
we were travelling. When I begged to be allowed 



RECOLLECTIONS OF PORTUGAL 127 

to read out to her she said, ' No, no, dear child, you 
must not try your young eyes.' 

The next morning when I went to the Princess's 
rooms I found the Princess Stephanie ah-eady there. 
She had come from her home at Duesseldorf, where 
she hved with her parents. Her father was the head 
of the Roman CathoHc and non-reigning branch of 
the Hohenzollern and her mother was one of the three 
daughters of the charming Stephanie Beauharnais, 
the niece of Josephine, and whom Napoleon married 
(very much against the young man's will) to the Duke 
of Baden. 

The Princess Stephanie was to accompany the 
Princess of Prussia that morning to some function, 
from which I had been dispensed, as the day happened 
to be a sad and recent anniversary for me. She was 
dressed in a pink silk frock, in spite of the intense 
cold. The rest of her attire bespoke the Spartan 
simplicity in which she had been brought up. Her 
soft brown hair framed the round and childhke con- 
tours of her face. There was something angelic in 
her expression, which was most attractive and en- 
dearing. Two or three months later, as she stood 
decked out in regal splendour in the Hedwigs-kirche, 
the great Catholic fane of BerUn, she looked a beautiful 
young Queen. She was married by procuration to 
her brother, who accompanied her to Lisbon. 

Don Pedro had sent rich and gorgeous presents 
to his bride, by the Due de Louie, the Marquis de 



128 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Ficalho and many other Portuguese nobles, some of 
them accompanied by their wives, who were to be 
the Queen's ladies. The Marquis of Ficalho, who 
looked the very incarnation of one of Valasquez' 
portraits, high-bred, tall and extremely thin, with 
a pointed white beard, refused, when it came to his 
turn to kiss the Queen's hand, to kneel as the others 
had done. He said, ' Je ne m'agenouille que devant 
Dieu et ma Dame.' La Reinha Estafania, as she 
was now called, smiled and put out her hand. 

This young Princess, who was as noble-minded 
as she was lovely, was carried off a few months after 
her marriage by a mysterious illness, perhaps diph- 
theria, which in Portugal was unknown. Don Pedro 
never recovered her loss, and when a little more than 
a year afterwards he fell ill of typhoid, to which one 
or two of his brothers succumbed at the same time, 
there were some who said that he had allowed himself 
to die, though others attributed his death to other 
causes. 

When we arrived at Lisbon,i Don Luiz (Don 
Pedro's brother) had been on the throne about five 
years. He was a fair, fat, amiable, blue-eyed little 
Sovereign, fond of cooking German dishes in his 
own private kitchen, and with a quite remarkable 
talent for the violin. 

1 My husband was appointed as British Envoy Extraordinary 
(plenipotentiary) to Portugal in September 1866. 



RECOLLECTIONS OF PORTUGAL 129 

He had married, three years before, Maria Pia, the 
daughter of King Victor Emmanuel of Piedmont. 
She was fourteen when she arrived in Portugal. When 
I first saw her at the New Year's reception of 1867 
she was seventeen. She startled me by her peculiar 
beauty. She was tall and stately, though very thin, 
but her shoulders were broad and she moved well. 
No smile ever flickered over her small pale face, which 
was overshadowed by a forest of reddish golden hair. 
Her turquoise-blue deep-set eyes gazed with a farouche 
expression, very like her father's, from under russet- 
coloured brows. She wore a pale blue satin gown, 
absolutely simple except for a piece of priceless lace 
swathed around her shoulders. Chains of pearls and 
rubies were wreathed about her head, her neck and 
arms. It was with difficulty that she could be induced 
to speak to strangers, perhaps from shyness, but she 
clung with passionate affection to everything Pied- 
montese and was very communicative to her father's 
Envoy and his wife, though she was an English 
lady. Report says that at present she cHngs with 
equal fideUty to everything Portuguese, and, in- 
deed, she has returned to a transformed country ; 
instead of Piedmont, she has found Italy, of which 
she even barely knows the language, much less 
the habits of the people ! They, who knew her 
very well, always said that she was a very fine 
character. 

She lived in the great and solemn Palace of the 



130 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Ajuda, where I sometimes went to see her ; for on every 
Thursday afternoon she received any of the ladies 
whom she knew. The Portuguese ought to be moved 
by the sad fate of this Princess, who came to them a 
mere child and felt so lonely and forlorn during the 
first years of her stay there that she wrote on the walls 
of her Palace the pathetic words ' Je m'ennuie ! ' ; 
and who yet has become so passionately attached to 
the country of her adoption that her exile from it, 
even after the ghastly events of some years ago, appears 
a crowning misfortune. 

Though I do not remember ever hearing that there 
were any court festivities, and the King and Queen 
lived in the most retired way, they were even then 
very much pressed for money, and in a letter from 
Sir Augustus Paget, written to Lord Stanley, he says 
on February 26, 1867 : ' The intended journey of the 
King and Queen to Paris, London, etc., has now 
become pretty generally known and causes great 
dissatisfaction, at which one cannot wonder much 
in the notoriously impoverished condition of the 
Royal as well as the public treasury. To defray 
the expenses of the journey, the King has, it 
is said, contracted a loan in London, and it is 
well known that he is already much in debt. 
They are, I beHeve, to go to Italy after Paris 
and London.' 

It will be seen by this that the financial embarrass- 
ments of the Royal family, which contributed so 



RECOLLECTIONS OF PORTUGAL 131 

much to the present discontent in Portugal, dated 
already from King Manoel's grandfather, nearly fifty 
years ago. 

A month later Sir Augustus refers to the same 
subject : — 

I hear rumours that the King's journey abroad 
is to be given up and, considering his pecuniary 
position, it would be the wisest thing he could do. To 
obtain the necessary money he would have to mort- 
gage the Braganza estates, and to enable him to do 
this he must apply for a law to the Cortes, as they 
are entailed upon his eldest son. If the application 
is made, it will be grounded on the plea that the 
money asked for is to improve those estates, whereas 
everyone knows the real purpose to which it will be 
devoted. 

And then again on the 30th of March : — 

There seems to be great mystery and uncertainty 
about the Royal movements. Some say the journey 
is postponed and my own impression is, that it forcibly 
must be so, but the Queen is exceedingly annoyed, 
and last night it was said no decision had really been 
taken. One thing is certain however, that they can't 
go without any money, and as the Royal treasury is 
as empty as the public one, this money will have to 
be borrowed, and moreover the sanction of the Cortes 
to the King's leaving the country must be obtained, 
and King Fernando's opposition overcome. I don't 
see how all this can be done in a week. 

I will not enlarge upon a description of Lisbon, 
as all that ever can be said about it has been 



132 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

said by Lord Byron and Beckford, but I must 
dwell for a moment upon the ecstatic sensations 
the first experiences of the real South awakened 
in me after having passed so many years in the 
extreme North. 

I had at Southampton retired to my cabin amidst 
bitter November sleet and rain. When two days 
later I emerged on the sun-bathed deck to Hsten to 
the strains of music and inhale the scent of orange 
groves which came wafted on a gentle breeze from 
unseen shores, I felt intoxicated with happiness. 
Another day brought us to the mouth of the Tagus, 
and there we were informed that we should not be 
allowed to land at Lisbon, but must undergo five 
days' quarantine on the opposite shore, because, 
though we had a clean bill of health, the cholera had 
been in England in the summer. 

We had to go into the Lazzaretto, a kind of fort 
on a cliff overlooking the Tagus, a place where one 
was much more Hkely to catch an illness than get rid of 
one. The discomfort of this establishment cannot be 
described. The beds were simply boards with coarse 
sheets over them. The furniture was of the most 
common and uncompromising kind, the food absolutely 
uneatable ; in fact, it was an establishment for fleecing 
the wretched foreigner whose ill luck lands him into 
this den, for the prices were far above those of the 
most sumptuous hotels in Paris or London. Whilst 
shut up in this prison we were not allowed to see our 



RECOLLECTIONS OF PORTUGAL 133 

friends except across an abyss about twenty feet 
wide and with gratings on both sides, through which 
we had to shriek out. 

In a private letter to Lord Stanley, Sir A, Paget, 
after touching upon the extremely antiquated and 
inconvenient custom-house regulations, goes on to 
say :— 

I don't know whether it is because I have been a 
recent sufferer, but I certainly feel very strongly 
that if ever the present negotiation takes a practical 
turn we ought to insist upon the modification of their 
sanitary laws. Here we have in a free and consti- 
tutional country a body which, avowedly totally 
independent of the Government, is exercising the most 
unlimited powers in the most arbitrary manner. You 
can have no conception the injury it does to trade, 
not to speak of the inconvenience to travellers. It 
is atrocious that people coming from a clean port 
and in a ship with a clean bill of health should be 
subjected to be detained for any number of days 
in prison, at the caprice of this medical board, and 
as the term of observation is generally longer for 
merchandise than it is for passengers, the annoyance 
and loss to the mercantile community is much 
greater. 

This horrible quarantine was the cause of my 
missing one of the most remarkable sights of the 
nineteenth century — the shower of falling stars which 
took place at midnight on the 14th of November 
1866. The hours dragged on so slowly that I sought 
consolation in sleep. 



134 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

We were not allowed outside the prison walls, and 
the only place we had to pace about in was a small 
sandy court. 

We departed with sighs of relief, but not without 
my husband leaving many forcible wishes behind him, 
for an unwashed nation, that dared to lock up clean 
and healthy English people in their disgusting Laz- 
zarettos. We lived at first in a large hotel which 
stood on the square where we landed. On waking 
the first morning, I was fascinated by the charm of 
outdoor southern life. The noise, the bustle, the 
colour under the blue vault of heaven, with a sun such 
as I had hardly ever seen in July, and all this in the 
second half of November ! There were half-naked 
fishers with their nets and Callegos women gracefully 
balancing great water barrels on their heads ; children 
selling lemons and oranges and fruit of which I did 
not even know the name, women with the straight black 
cloaks and white kerchief on their heads, a dress 
which in Portuguese is called ' Capot e lenzo,' and the 
fan, without which no lady or beggar-girl is ever seen, 
and men screaming out their wares with strange wild 
cries, which I never learnt to understand. It all 
appeared enchantment to me. We at once set to work 
to find a house, for though Lord Stanley had told my 
husband we were only to stay six months at Lisbon, a 
change of Government during that time might have 
also changed this disposition. 

We soon found a very delightful house high up 



RECOLLECTIONS OF PORTUGAL 135 

in the Rua San Francisco, where it widens into a 
little square. Though only a stone's throw from the 
most animated part of Lisbon, I never, during the six 
months I was there, saw a carriage pass, except those 
that drove up to our door. It was utterly deserted. 
The house itself put me in mind of a gilt cage, it 
was so smart and frivolous. It was full of light and 
sunshine, but its great charm was a little garden 
which seemed to hang in mid air almost above 
the Tagus. Fathoms below, roofs were piled upon 
roofs, and the eye ranged over the half of Lisbon 
and the wide blue river to the marble walls of 
the Almeida and the purple lines of the Arrabidi 
mountains. 

In the garden stood pepper-trees, magnolias, and 
aromatic shrubs ; the walls of the house, which on two 
sides formed the boundary, were covered with camel- 
lias as large as saucers, ranging from pale yellow to 
flaming red ; and the mauve blossoms of a wistaria 
fell in thick fringes over the slender banisters which 
encircled the garden east and west. 

A rather unpleasant surprise was vouchsafed to 
us when we proposed giving our first dinner. We 
found that all our plate-chests had been rifled in the 
custom-house. Nor were we able to recover any of 
the stolen articles, though we engaged detectives, 
who traced them, but after some time gave us to 
understand that they were under orders to desist. 

There was no real political work in Portugal, but 



136 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

a number of rather annoying current questions ; and 
the dilatory and not very straightforward deahngs 
which my husband had to encounter tried his patience 
to the utmost. I will give some extracts from his 
private letter to Lord Stanley in which he speaks of 
the affair of Consul Vines, and which will give a picture 
of what the state of things in Portugal was then. 
After having said that the Prime Minister, M. Cazal 
Ribeiro, whenever a thing does not go as he wishes, 
' speaks more like a disappointed child, who has been 
baulked of a pretty toy, than a sensible man having 
the interests of his country at heart,' he continues: 
' I am afraid this affair of Consul Vines will give a 
great deal of trouble. . . . Even taking the Portu- 
guese version of the case, I do not, I confess, see that 
they have much to allege against him, and certainly 
their secret and underhand proceedings are not to be 
justified.' It appears that Mr. Vines had stated that 
the ill-feeling against him had been got up by one of 
the members of the Cortes and that M. Cazal Ribeiro 
had been strongly influenced by this and had taken 
part against him. 

Sir Augustus continues : ' However all this may 
be, I perfectly understand that we must try for a 
peaceful settlement of the affair, and I shall again 
call upon M. Cazal in a day or two, when perhaps he 
may be in a more reasonable temper than he was just 
after his disappointment about the treaty.' 

Then a few days later : — 



RECOLLECTIONS OF PORTUGAL 137 

I send you the result of my appeal to M. Cazal 
Ribeiro in the case of Mr. Consul Vines, and it has 
been, I am sorry to say, very unsatisfactory. Every- 
thing which has been done is, according to him, in 
conformity with the usual mode of procedure and law 
in Portugal, and the report of the legal adviser to 
the Legation supports his assertion. 

I can only say under these circumstances that it 
is a great pity we gave up Conservatorial Court, for 
a more unjust system of procedure it seems to me 
difficult to imagine. Conceive an accusation brought 
against a man in England, the magistrate conducting 
a secret trial — behind his back and unbeknown to the 
accused, and consigning him to the Old Bailey on the 
evidence produced in this secret ordeal, which he has 
no opportunity of replying to. To me it seems like 
condemning a man without any trial at all, for, of 
course, when the real trial comes on, the bias of the 
jury must be against the accused by reason of the 
verdict already pronounced against him, which verdict 
has been obtained behind his back. M. Cazal Ribeiro 
says such is the universal law on the Continent. I 
know not how this is, but if it's the case it is another 
reason why I thank God I'm an Englishman and not 
a foreigner ! 

M. Cazal Ribeiro disclaims, as you will see, any 
personal feehng in the affair, and it is possible that 
he speaks the truth, but the visit I received from the 
Deputy of St. Michaels will not fail to strike you in 
connexion with what Mr. Vines says, as to his being 
employed in the business. 

How this business ended I do not remember, nor 
do I find any more allusions to it, but in the next 
letter Sir A. says : — 

I wish I could think that I take too gloomy a 



138 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

view of the state of things, but all my information is 
derived from the most authentic sources, and there 
can be, it seems to me, but one inference. No wonder, 
as you say, that we find so much difficulty in getting 
our claims settled. If they would only be good 
enough to answer, it would be something, but they 
don't even condescend to do this. I have three cases 
now to which I can't obtain a reply, notwithstanding 
my repeated applications. Cazal thinks, I suppose, that 
if he can only get to the day of his departure with the 
King, he will be all right, at all events for some weeks. 
I do not wish to appear cynical in my despatches, but 
the fact is, the whole machine is rotten from top to 
bottom, and it is such a pity, for there never was a 
country possessing more natural elements for pros- 
perity. There is said to be a great deal of agitation 
in the country, especially in the north, but I shall 
not be surprised to see it settle down. 

There is no doubt that a country which once had 
the mines of Golconda at its disposition, and suddenly 
lost this source of untold wealth, v^^as in a most difficult 
position, and the nation's character, or rather want 
of character, failed to adapt itself to the new 
situation. 

Nobody can tell into what the recent events in 
Portugal will develop, but there is no doubt that this 
splendid country, administered by an incorrupt, 
inteUigent and frugal Government, might, like Egypt, 
be transformed out of poverty and misery into one 
of the most thriving, most prosperous and happy 
countries of the world. 

M. Cazal Ribeiro may have been very tiresome 



RECOLLECTIONS OF PORTUGAL 139 

in business, but he afforded us constant amusement ; 
the clever and witty American Envoy, Mr. Harvey, was 
quite especially entertained by the Prime Minister's 
vagaries. 

M. Cazal was still young, small, dark, sHght and 
alert ; he was involved in everlasting flirtations. 
At that time he was devoted to a piquante brunette, 
who, however, showed a certain ' penchant ' for a 
very young, good-looking and lively attache of our 
Legation. He was a mere boy, and spent the time, 
during which he did not copy despatches, in the nursery 
playing with my children. He was, however, a thorn 
in M. Cazal's side. Mr. Harvey, who was just as 
much tried by the latter's business methods as my 
husband was, mischievously encouraged this sport, 
and I, who had not forgiven M. Cazal for baulking 
us in the recovery of our plate, own to having 
thoroughly enjoyed the fun ; besides which, whenever 
he came to dine with us, I used to vex his spirit by 
saying it was so fortunate we had that fine Government 
plate, or we should not have the pleasure of seeing 
him at our table, as all our plate had disappeared in 
the most mysterious way. Mr. Harvey used to be 
in fits of laughter when at balls and parties, assidu- 
ously frequented by M. Cazal, he peered round the 
doors trying to avoid me. The whole thing was 
infinitely droll, more like the happenings in an opera 
bouffe than in real and serious fife. 

Lisbon was, during the winter, a very gay town. 



140 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Society appeared to me to be a mixture of Louis XV 
manners and usages and Alice in Wonderland. It 
was a never-ending source of surprise and amusement 
to those who had sufficient sense of humour and 
romance to see the picturesqueness and not mind the 
inconvenience. Countess Penafiel gave brilliant balls. 
She was the daughter and heiress of Count Penafiel, 
and had fallen in love with a penniless BraziHan, 
whom she was forbidden to marry. She did so, 
however, after her father's death, and the hospitahty 
and extravagance of her house was unbounded. Then 
there was the Duke of Palmella, who also held his title 
from his wife, a very frequent occurrence in Portugal. 
The Duchess was a nice quiet woman, half English 
through her mother. Their dinner parties were what 
one might imagine banquets to have been in the days 
when Portugal held sway over Peru. The viands 
were, it is true, rather weird and eerie, but the topaz- 
coloured port flowed in goblets, dusty perhaps, but 
of untold value. Golden pheasants sat, feathers and 
all, on platters of embossed vermeille, and there were 
other contrivances such as are only recorded at marriage 
festivities in the Middle Ages. 

The King and Queen never appeared in society, 
but the King's father, Don Fernando, a very clever, 
agreeable man, went to great Portuguese houses. 
He was very tall and good-looking, and spoke German 
with the strongest Coburg accent. He was married 
morganatically to a German actress, whom he had 



RECOLLECTIONS OF PORTUGAL 141 

created Countess Edla, but he did not then, as later 
on, introduce her into society. Lisbon was not yet 
ripe for this innovation. He Hved at Cintra, in his 
castle of La Penha, on one of the highest peaks. The 
steep slopes of this mountain are covered with gigantic 
camellia-trees, which are studded with thousands of 
coral blossoms all through the winter. Under them 
grows the aromatic white Mediterranean heath, often 
six feet high. 

There were many very beautiful women at Lisbon 
in those days. The most remarkable one was the 
Marchesa Ficalho, who looked from head to foot like 
the ' Donna Inez ' of Romance. There were also 
some very good-looking Spanish exiles, driven away 
from Madrid by the constantly changing regime. 
The diplomatic corps was particularly well composed, 
and lived together in amity like a large family. The 
Russian Legation, especially, was a great resource. 
Both the Minister and his wife were Poles, who spoke 
English to perfection. They were a middle-aged 
couple, and spent their life under a pear-tree in their 
garden, where they gave everybody who came to see 
them an excellent cup of caravan tea. Their hos- 
pitaUty was unbounded, like the kindness of their 
hearts. They, as well as their secretaries, were great 
whist-players, in fact everybody at Lisbon was, and 
when one went to a party all the rooms were filled 
with innumerable whist tables, and there was hardly 
anybody to speak to. 



142 



SCENES AND MEMORIES 



Prince Alfred (Duke of Edinburgh) came with his 
ship and remained about a month. He and his suite 
went out a great deal and were most popular in 
society. Many of our men-o'-war used to come and 
lie in the Tagus, and we sometimes went on board 
for Divine service, which I always thought most 
impressive in those wonderful surroundings. 

The English church at Lisbon, situated at the 
highest point of the town, stands in the most beautiful 
cemetery in the world. Huge cypresses rise into the 
translucent sky, and scarlet geraniums, with stems 
as thick as trees, wind in and out of the deep green 
branches and cover every marble tomb and iron 
railing. Beyond the whitewashed wall, lavishly 
draped with crimson bougainvilleas, the azure river 
melts into the azure hills. The glow and richness 
of all this red and blue and deep green, with little 
patches of pure white wall, is such as no words can 
render. The peace and brightness of this God's 
Acre is very touching. Many English are buried 
there, for Lisbon always was full of them. 

Once only I was induced to go to a bull-fight, for 
I was told that there was no cruelty attending them, 
as the horses that were used were good ones and never 
were hurt. Unfortunately for me, the first bull that 
came into the ring was a very savage one, and immedi- 
ately badly gored a man, who was carried away, upon 
which he turned upon another one, whom he killed, 
I fled, wondering what people could find in such 



RECOLLECTIONS OF PORTUGAL 143 

pastimes. It is certain that such spectacles must 
rouse cruelty, the worst of all passions, in the breasts 
of the onlookers, and very much retard the moral 
advance of a nation. 

All the accounts of the great earthquake of 1758 
had a weird fascination for me, and the fact that 
the word ' earthquake ' could never be mentioned at 
Lisbon, as it was considered as tempting Providence, 
made the fascination even greater. I visited with 
curiosity the ruins of the Carmine church, which was 
still lying as it fell, and any other vestiges I could 
find of this fearful commotion of nature. A tidal 
wave sixty feet high swept up the Tagus and over 
Blackhorse Square (thus christened by the British tar 
on account of the equestrian statue in the middle) and 
swallowed up 20,000 people. The impression and 
the horror have never been effaced from the minds 
of the people, and a stranger who dares to allude to 
an earthquake is at once peremptorily silenced. The 
old gardens of Lisbon had a most mysterious attraction 
for me. They had been laid out in the splendid days, 
when the gold mines of Peru were at the disposal of 
the great nobles, but now no mortal foot ever trod 
their moss-grown paths, except the girls who gathered 
the lemons and oranges. They were full of thick 
high hedges, moss-grown statues, and quaint devices, 
and my children and I used to run along and play 
amongst their enchanted green mazes, without any 
fear of ever being disturbed. 



144 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Sometimes we drove to the beautiful Moorish 
cloisters of Belem, with the fountains and the rose 
trees in their courts, or to the shore beyond, where 
the Tagus flows into the Atlantic, the very place where 
the Royal fugitives embarked the other day. 

Some miles inland lay the vast gardens of the 
Countess Farobo, a very great lady, whose husband 
had long been Governor of Madeira, where they dis- 
pensed princely hospitality to all the English wintering 
there. These gardens were full of strange, wild, un- 
tended flowers, even in the middle of winter. The 
Portuguese ladies never had a flower in their rooms, 
for they feared their strong scent, but finding that I 
loved them they filled my house with nosegays. 

Only those who have taken the trouble to visit 
some of the palaces and gardens around Lisbon can 
understand the subtle old-world charm which emanates 
from them. 

One day I persuaded our Itahan colleagues to 
accompany us to the Palace of the Almeida, on the 
opposite side of the Tagus. They kept us waiting 
a long time and, when they joined us, one of their 
secretaries, who was a Florentine and had the wicked 
tongue of his birthplace, confided to me, that what 
had made his chief late was that he could not manage 
to concoct a despatch in Italian. Count Cavour had 
just then put an end to the optional writing in French, 
which had been allowed to Italian diplomats, and 
the North Itahans were in despair, as many of them 



RECOLLECTIONS OF PORTUGAL 145 

were incapable of writing their own language, and 
among their number was our poor little friend, who 
was a Genoese. This day another terror was added 
to his woes, for the playful Dolphins would pass and 
repass under the bows of our little craft bumping up 
against her, and my husband amused himself by telling 
stories how they sometimes even upset a boat. He 
was terrified. 

As we neared the shore, I was absorbed by the 
Almeida, which stands hke one of Claude's ideal 
structures close to the margin of the water, the little 
wavelets lapping over the lower steps. 

There were great flights of stairs, and tall columns 
and porticoes, all of sober grey, and the whole 
was entirely forlorn and abandoned. At the 
back a wilderness of myrtle hedges as high as 
houses, carpeted with spring flowers, led one up into 
the hills. 

Another Royal Palace, Quelus, is the Portuguese 
Versailles. Here the rooms are partly furnished in 
a quaint unreal kind of way, a sort of French exotic 
Louis XV. The gardens are famous for their water- 
works, and out of every stone, and bush, and statue, 
a shower of spray is thrown up. I strayed out of the 
formal gardens, away from my friends, attracted by 
the most delicious overpowering scent of orange- 
blossoms, and I came to a grove, a wood, a forest, of 
orange-trees, such as I had never beheld before. The 
thick-stemmed trees, with their shining foUage, white 



146 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

flowers, and heavy golden fruit, seemed to stretch 
for miles. The branches were bowed down to the 
ground with the weight of the fruit, and the ground 
was strewn with white blossoms ; I thought myself 
in fairyland. What makes Quelus so curious is that 
it lies, a green and luxurious oasis, amidst a desolate 
desert of sand and rock. 

There were hardly any railways in Portugal in 
those days, and the posadas (inns) were of the 
most elementary description, and all of them infested 
by a ferocious kind of little scarlet sand-flea. In 
despite of these terrors we made several rather long 
excursions into the inland provinces. We went to 
see the famous shrine of Batalha ; and to get there 
we traversed an entirely uncultivated and desolate 
country, sometimes coming to a squahd village crowned 
by the ruins of a medieval castle and peopled by 
swarms of filthy half-naked beggars, who insisted 
upon thrusting their maimed and distorted limbs 
into our faces, as the horses were being changed. 
Disgusting and repulsive as these poor wretches were, 
I remember one exception, a little boy who touched 
me very much. We met him at the bottom of a long 
hill which we had to ascend. There was apparently 
no house near to which he might belong. He was 
barefoot and hardly clad at all, he had fair hair and 
blue eyes, like many descendants of the Visigoths, 
and his age might have been five or six. As his httle 
limbs were all in perfect order I suppose he thought 



RECOLLECTIONS OF PORTUGAL 147 

it useless to beg and vociferate, so all he did was to 
fold his little hands together, as if he were pray- 
ing, and to follow the carriage silently in this 
attitude. I need not say that he did not do so 
in vain. 

On the afternoon of that day, as we were driving 
on and on through the dreary brown undulating fields, 
I suddenly saw, close before me, or more truly, just 
below me, a vision which seemed too surprising to be 
real. 

The land fell very abruptly, almost Uke a quarry, 
only instead of stones there were the never-ending 
cornfields, and out of the middle of this cup, not a 
quarter of a mile in diameter, rose the spires and 
towers, the roofs and columns, the arches and cloisters 
of world-famed Batalha, so beautifully bewildering 
to the eye, so utterly unlikely to the imagination, so 
entirely different from anything I had expected, that 
my breath stopped for a moment, and the only word 
I could formulate was an exclamation of surprise. 
Even now, after so many years, the impression is 
quite fresh in my mind, but no words can describe or 
render this unique work of the human brain and 
hands, built up to the glory of God. 

Here the Gothic Moorish style is melted into per- 
fect harmony, and whilst the inside of the Cathedral 
is mystic and solemn in its noble simplicity and carries 
the thoughts and prayers of the devout upwards, 
without distracting them by a single detail, there is not 



148 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

one foot, nay, I may almost say inch, of the exterior 
that is not worked and wrought over with the most 
elaborate design and beautiful tracery, as if to say to 
the world, ' Behold ! can the house of the Almighty 
be decked out more wonderfully than this one is ? ' 
As I gazed at these marvellous cloisters and courts, 
now overgrown with giant nettles and tangled thorns, 
I felt almost giddy with the wealth of new-found 
impressions which rushed in upon me, and I looked 
in wondering silence upon the richness and lightness 
of the ornaments ; no ancient lace is more delicate 
in design. 

The most astounding part of this indescribable 
fane is perhaps the ' Capella Imparfeita,' which lies 
on the south side, and never was finished simply 
because it was not possible to finish it, such is its 
unbehevable elaborateness. Conceived by the brain 
of an enthusiast it can only have been put together 
inch by inch by hands as patient as they were 
dexterous. It is so unHke anything else in the world 
that it is useless to try to describe it. 

Lisbon might, I think, have appeared an uneventful 
place in the long run to those who did not appreciate 
its perfect climate, its southern splendour, and the 
old-world picturesqueness which lurked out from 
amidst much that was repulsive and unlovely to our 
northern sense of cleanliness and order. 

A few men in society were cultivated and well- 



RECOLLECTIONS OF PORTUGAL 149 

mannered, and some of the ladies who had travelled 
and seen other countries were pleasant and dis- 
tinguished, but the great mass of people struck me as 
a very mixed race, very arriere, as the French would 
say, and entirely given over to the pursuit of material 
profit, no matter how it was attained. 

We were extremely fortunate in the composition 
of the staff of our Legation, Mr. Lytton (later Lord 
Lytton, Viceroy of India) was first secretary. He 
had served in the same capacity at Copenhagen when 
we were there, and we now made the acquaintance of 
his charming wife. 

A very old and close friendship united him and 
my husband. It had begun when they were quite 
young men at the Hague, and continued at Copen- 
hagen. It lasted true, warm, and sincere until the 
younger friend passed over — a loss which created a 
sorrowful void in the last years of the elder one's life. 

Mr. Lytton's deUghtful conversation, keen sense 
of humour, briUiant imagination, and above all, his 
warm heart and affectionate disposition, endeared him 
to all who knew him. His very peculiarities and 
oddities only made him more attractive. The Lyttons 
lived at Cintra, and many were the happy hours we 
spent together in those fairy woods. 

When in the spring, barely six months after our 
arrival, my husband was appointed to the Legation 
at Florence, which had just become the capital of 
Italy, I was of course delighted, but I could not repress 



150 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

a sigh of regret for Lisbon's serene skies, its sunlit 
gardens, with their unreal, dreamlike fruit and flowers, 
and, above all, the stately azure river on its eternal 
journey to the ocean. 

There is a Portuguese word, ' saudades,' which 
perhaps best rendered my feelings. It is untrans- 
latable, but unites within itself something of the 
German Wehmuth with the English ' longing ' and 
a spice of other emotions for which I cannot find 
expression. 



CHAPTER VII 

WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL 

It had always been the wish of my heart to go to 
Italy ; and when my husband was named Minister 
to the post of Florence, at that time a most 
interesting one, we were both delighted. 

As during that summer of 1867 the cholera was 
devastating Europe, I took my children, household 
and all worldly belongings, by ' long sea ' from Lisbon 
to Leghorn, whilst my husband went to England to 
kiss hands on his new appointment. When I arrived 
at Leghorn I found everybody paralysed with terror. 
The Italians are a very emotional race, and in those 
days the Government had not learnt to keep things 
that might affect the public mind out of the papers. 

Everybody was talking of a party which Prince 
Doria had just given, at his lovely Villa of Albano, to 
the cream of Roman society, and whilst his guests 
were chatting on the terrace some of them observed 
the so much feared blue mists creeeping up towards 
them out of the Campagna. The next day a number 
of them, Princes and Princesses, Dukes and Cardinals, 

151 



152 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

were dead ! At that time disinfectants and pre- 
cautionary measures were unknown in Italy, and 
nothing was done to mitigate the evil ; the poorer 
classes especially were mad with terror. 

I retired with my children to the Baths of Lucca 
till the great heat was over. The whole place still 
bore the stamp of Byron's and Shelley's days. It 
had long ceased being the fashionable resort it once 
was in the thirties and forties, and the only diversions 
were the weekly receptions of Princess Corsini, the 
greatest lady in Tuscany, at her Palace in the Piazza, 
of the part of the Bagni called ' the Villa.' 

I was taken to see her by a mutual friend ; and 
though the wife of any Minister accredited to King 
Victor Emmanuel must have been abhorrent to her, 
she was most amiable to me, and we became in future 
the fastest friends. I was ushered through a long 
suite of rooms into the one in which the Princess sat 
enthroned in a gilt chair in the midst of her devotees. 
The room was quite bare like those we had come 
through, but the walls were hung with a sumptuous 
damask. The guests were seated on smaller gilt 
chairs than the one the Princess occupied, the chairs 
were disposed in a circle, and everybody took their 
place according to their rank. 

The Princess addressed her visitors with great 
dignity ; she was a frail little woman, covered with 
jewels like a Madonna. The Prince, with a yellow 
silk wig and nankin trousers, stood about, throwing 



WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL 153 

in a word here and there. They had shortly before 
lost their only son, heir to their immense fortune, at 
the age of nineteen, just as he was going to be married 
to one of the daughters of Queen Christina of Spain. 
They were the type of what was then called in Florence 
the ' Codini aristocracy.' They clung to their Grand 
Duke, and Victor Emmanuel was only King of 
Sardinia to them. 

When I first went to Florence there were a great 
many of the old famiHes who would not go to Court 
— if a Court could be said to exist at that time. King 
Victor Emmanuel, when he was not chasing the 
steinbock or the chamois on his beloved mountains, 
used to drop down to his capital for a day or two, only 
to see his Ministers and then disappear again. Once 
or twice during the winter months he gave a ball at 
the Pitti Palace. He loathed these functions, and 
stood for the short time he remained at them on a 
kind of dais at the end of the room, surrounded by 
his staff, scowhng, or rather glaring, at the dancers. 

Such was the crowd at these balls — for it must 
not be forgotten that Italy is a democratic country — 
that a space had to be roped off in front of the dais. 
Within this space, on the right, chairs were placed for 
the diplomatic corps, and on the left the Knights of the 
Annunciata and their wives and other great Itahan 
functionaries were seated. Every now and then 
the King sent messages to the ladies within the ropes 
to dance before him. Many of them were old and 



154 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

portly and had not danced for twenty years. Outside 
the ropes the crush was indescribable. 

Being filled with a thirst for information and a 
spirit of enterprise, I insisted, at the first ball, upon 
leaving the protection of the ropes to inspect the other 
rooms and galleries of the far-famed Pitti Palace. 
I was told it was an impossible undertaking, that 
no lady had done it before ; but I remained firm, 
and four gentlemen volunteered to accompany me. 
I took the arm of the Due de Rivaz, at that time 
Spanish Minister at Florence ; he was a poet of no mean 
order, the very best type of a high-born Spaniard, 
dignified, silent, most courteous, tall, pale and red- 
haired Hke a portrait by Velasquez. A Neapolitan 
senator, full of fun and go, carried my train, and two 
other gentlemen went, one before me and the other 
to protect me on my right. I laughed at first at all 
these precautions, but saw very soon that they were 
by no means exaggerated, for the moment we got 
into the surging crowd beyond the ropes, I should 
certainly have had my dress torn off me, as well as my 
jewels and laces, and it was only by main force that 
we got into another room, where it was easier to move, 

Italy being so democratic, the guests at these 
balls consisted of every class of people, mostly men, 
I saw some in coloured ties and trousers, some in 
jackets and hobnailed boots, women in the most 
impossible attire, with striped blankets over their 



WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL 155 

shoulders in guise of a shawl. Some wore mittens, 
and a camellia in their hair seemed to be the only 
effort at any kind of ornament which they had made. 
It was impossible even to approach the room in which 
the refreshments were, for a free-fight went on there 
all the time. I was told that the knives and forks 
were chained to the buffet, and that many who left 
had the necks of bottles sticking out of their coat- 
pockets. King Victor Emmanuel was a very generous 
Sovereign and whatever he did, he did splendidly, 
and his famished subjects were grateful. There was 
no lady at the Court, which was a purely mihtary 
one, and so things went on merrily and without any 
restrictions. I may here mention that the King's 
civil list was a far larger one than Queen Victoria's, 
though Italy is a much poorer country than England. 
I believe it is the case that the more democratic a 
country is, the more they spend on their Government. 
When I returned to the ball-room it suddenly 
occurred to me that I ought to be presented to the 
King, so I asked the Marchese Gualterio, Minister 
of the King's House, to proffer my request to his 
Majesty. I thought he looked rather embarrassed, 
but as I believed I was only doing the usual and right 
thing, I took no notice. After a while the Marchese 
returned with this message : ' His Majesty will be 
delighted to make your acquaintance, but not here, 
as it would entail his making the acquaintance of the 
other ladies of the diplomatic corps, and he does not 



156 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

feel equal to that. Will you go and see him to-morrow 
morning at ten o'clock ; Sir Augustus is to accompany 
you.' 

Punctually at twelve o'clock the King, followed 
by his suite, retired from his dais, which he had never 
once left, the ropes were withdrawn, and to my utter 
astonishment every diplomat seized hold of his wife 
or daughter and, taking them under their arms, they 
rushed down, helter-skelter, a small backstairs to the 
court where their carriages were standing, before the 
crowd streaming down the great staircase could block 
the way. 

The next morning at ten o'clock I was sitting on 
a divan in a room in the Pitti Palace waiting till the 
Council of Ministers should be over. It was a well- 
known thing that the King, whenever he received 
ladies, always appointed ten o'clock ; but they were 
not often ladies who belonged to what is called society, 
nor were they ever accompanied by their husbands, 
if they had any ; it was therefore not to be wondered 
at that when the door of the council chamber opened 
and one Minister came out after another they stopped 
breathless with astonishment at seeing us seated there. 
We were immediately ushered into the King's presence. 
He was sitting at the head of a long green table and 
made us sit down at each side of him. He at once 
began to explain why he had asked me to come to 
him instead of making my acquaintance the night 
before. He said that all those ladies intimidated him. 



WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL 157 

and as for the old and plain ones (with a grimace) 
really it was plus fort que lui, he could not do it. He 
rolled his eyes, which were blue and rather bloodshot, 
and rumpled his hair all the time he spoke. His hair 
had originally been red, but he now dyed it black, 
because it was turning grey. He also had a huge 
black moustache and Imperial, his face was red and 
he was stout, but looked strong and healthy. He 
was dressed in some loose garments all made of black 
broadcloth, and I noticed how little white there was 
about his thickset, short neck, from which hung a 
wide black silk tie. 

Everybody knows the fascination the * Re Galan- 
tuomo ' exercised over those who approached him in 
those days. His genial address, his generosity, kind- 
heartedness and mother-wit won all hearts. What 
did it matter that his private life was not without 
reproach, or that in conversation he often drew the 
long bow, or paid without asldng the debts of anybody 
who approached him in the right way ? He had all 
the qualities and defects dear to the Latin heart. 

I soon forgot his extraordinary and rather terrific 
aspect and laughed heartily at the astounding state- 
ments which he poured forth during three-quarters of 
an hour. One of them was a detailed account of how 
the Sicilian women, his new subjects, cooked and ate 
their enemies during the Garibaldian invasion. 

Another funny episode was the following, which, 
however, requires a little explanation. Before every 



158 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Pitti ball a list of the foreigners who want to be invited 
is sent to every Legation, and the Minister has to 
stand sponsor for the respectability of his compatriots. 
I knew nothing at all about this, but my husband 
had struck out the name of a person whom he 
deemed unfit to be asked, though he knew she was 
not unknown to the King. 

His Majesty suddenly faced round upon me and 
shouted in his stentorian voice, ' Ah, vous avez hiffe 

le nom de Madame Z de la liste ! C'etait bien 

cruel ! J'ai envoy e ce matin mille francs a ce pauvre 
diable pour la consoler ! ' I was not yet inured to this 
southern desinvoUure, so I rather gasped, but the 
King went on chattering and laughing as if he had 
said nothing extraordinary. 

The King was at that time married (religiously) 
to a very handsome but quite uneducated woman, 
called Rosina, by whom he had several children whom 
he loved dearly. Rosina would have been Queen of 
Italy if the King had ever found a Minister foolish or 
subservient enough to countersign the Civil Marriage 
Act. 

The King had the quahties of a great Sovereign 
and founder of a throne. His indomitable courage 
carried him through all his difficulties, but both he and 
Cavour forgot that they were not immortal and that 
they had built up an edifice which would require 
strong shoulders to carry it. Thus it has happened that 
the growth of Italy has not been such as its makers 



WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL 159 

might have wished, though the splendid talents and 
capacity of the race encourage one to hope that 
the present phase is only a passing one, and that 
Italy is suffering, though in rather a more acute form, 
from the troubles which are spread more or less over 
the whole of Europe. 

When we arrived in Florence it had only been 
the capital for a year or two, and there was about 
the exquisite city ' pulita quanta un gioello,' as 
Benvenuto Cellini terms it, that subtle but sadden- 
ing charm pertaining to all beautiful things which one 
knows doomed to be adapted to modern exigencies. 
Already the noble old walls were beginning to fall, 
to allow of more extended traffic, and, instead of 
them, wide boulevards, icy and windy in winter, hot 
and dusty in summer, began to encircle the town. 
Many of the old palaces and convents had been con- 
verted into barracks and Government Offices, and in 
several places the ahen want of taste imported by 
its northern masters had begun to show itself in 
Tuscany. 

To anybody used to the order and stability of a 
town Hke London, Berhn, or Vienna, it would be 
difficult to give an idea of the chaotic state which a 
change of capital produces. We went through it 
twice — once in Florence and later on in Rome. 

Like most Englishmen, my husband had a great 
sympathy with United Italy, and the Italians at that 
time were still grateful to England for the moral 



i6o SCENES AND MEMORIES 

support she had given them and which had been such 
a great factor in their unification. It was therefore 
only natural that all the most prominent Italian 
statesmen, politicians and patriots congregated at 
our house. One of these men was Marco Minghetti, 
who had been Prime Minister a few years before, but 
was turned out on his signing the unpopular Sep- 
tember convention which made Florence the capital. 
He was the most eloquent of many eloquent speakers, 
his enunciation was smooth, calm and clear, he never 
gesticulated, and the words dropped like rounded 
pearls from his lips. Every sentence was beautifully 
rounded, he never repeated himself, and his images 
were elevated and ideal. His speeches gave me the 
idea of a rivulet flowing, full and limpid, through 
meadows enamelled with flowers ; they created a 
sense of the beautiful, the pure and good. Standing 
immovable, with his right hand hidden in his waist- 
coat, he gazed upwards with clear brown eyes, ever 
following an ideal and never despairing. The Itahans 
called him // fanciullo eterno, because of his naive 
faith in goodness, a faith so rare with them. He 
belonged to a well-to-do bourgeois family of Bologna, 
and had been brought up in antique simpHcity. He 
told me himself that fires and carpets were unknown 
in his father's house, though Bologna, situated on 
the northern slopes of the Apennines, is perhaps the 
coldest town in Italy. The family always dined with 
their fur coats on, and the men with their hats on 



WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL i6i 

their heads. The extreme frugahty of Italians in 
those days explains how it was that so many exiles 
lived on next to nothing for a great many years in 
foreign countries. 

The foremost patriot amongst Florentines was 
Baron Ricasoli, always called ' the iron Baron ' from 
his absolute inflexibihty of principle. Rigidly straight- 
forward, entirely honest, and owner of large landed 
estates, he had a great weight in the country, but was 
more feared than loved. When not called by political 
business to the capital, he lived at his Castle of BrogHo, 
which stands on a rock over Lake Trasimene. He 
never appeared in society, and curious legends, to 
which I will allude at another time, were woven about 
his name. He was an aristocrat of aristocrats, but 
refused to don a uniform when he went to Court, 
though a staunch Monarchist, for he said no Ricasoli 
had ever worn any king's livery. 

Quite different from him, but equally deserving of 
his country, was another Tuscan, Ubaldino Peruzzi, 
then Syndic of Florence, the wittiest and most briUiant 
man in conversation and of marvellous finesse ; a 
Florentine to his finger-ends, but of the very best 
type. He was devoted to his native city, and spent 
his life and fortune in beautifying it, without ever 
securing the gratitude of his fellow-citizens. 

Then there was the brave soldier and -preux chevalier 
General La Marmora. He was a Piedmontese 
and had fought many battles for his country, and 



i62 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

also played a certain part in politics. Married to 
an Englishwoman who had long ceased to be young 
and never had been pretty, he was always at the feet 
of the most charming women in society. 

There was one political man who, as far as I 
remember, never crossed our threshold, and that was 
Ratazzi, the Prime Minister of that day. King Victor 
Emmanuel was most partial to him, though nobody 
reposed any confidence in a man who, though full of 
ability, was quite devoid of principle. He was a 
lawyer by profession and belonged to what is called 
in Italy il mezzo ceto. He was able always to adapt 
himself to the exigencies of the moment and the 
requirements of party. He was the first of the long 
list of men of humble birth who was made a Knight 
of the Annunciata, and raised, together with his wife, 
to the rank of cousins of the King. In the case of 
Madame Ratazzi, this created a most embarrassing 
position, as even the large heart of Florentine society 
quailed at admitting her, and everybody was kept in 
terror lest, by dint of the high rank bestowed on her, 
she should try to force an entry into it. 

Madame Ratazzi was the beautiful daughter of 
Letitia Buonaparte and Mr. Vyse, a long-time H.B.M.'s 
Minister at Athens. She first espoused an ad- 
venturer calling himself Count Solms, but soon 
separated from him and led an untrammelled life at 
Paris and Baden-Baden. When she married Ratazzi 
she was stone-deaf and no longer young, but she had 



WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL 163 

large, innocent-looking blue eyes, and was an authoress. 
Some years later, when well past fifty, she gave birth, 
at Rome, to a daughter, to whom the town stood 
sponsor with great pomp, and who was called Roma. 
She was in the habit of receiving every evening in her 
spacious apartments the most advanced and turbulent 
spirits — political, literary, and artistic, nearly all men, 
and would ply them with copious, though elementary, 
suppers and Virginias — the strong and cheap Italian 
cigars which were the fashion then. 

Florence in those days was full of eminent men 
whose names were in everybody's mouth, but all of 
them have disappeared long ago, and the present 
generation hardly knows anything of the one which 
made Italy. Most of these men had gone through 
the bitter school of adversity. They had been exiled, 
poor, and sometimes imprisoned. It is in adversity 
that the Italians shine most. They are patient, 
enduring, content with Httle, full of resource, and can 
turn their hands to everything. 

I must, however, mention a man who, though not 
an Italian, played a large part in the unification of 
Italy, and that is Sir James Hudson, who had been 
Enghsh Minister at Turin and now lived in Florence. 
He was an intimate friend of my husband's, and we 
saw him constantly ; though he hved an absolutely 
retired Hfe, he made an exception for us, and occa- 
sionally came to dine and meet old friends. He was 
a man of immense charm of manner, witty, genial 

M 2 



i64 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

and open-hearted, very good-looking still, with his 
snow-white hair and bright flashing blue eyes. His 
retirement from the post of Turin has always remained 
a mystery, but though he never said so, he must at 
times have regretted not to have been allowed to 
finish the work he had begun, and both King Victor 
Emmanuel and Count Cavour reposed the greatest 
confidence in him. He lived in a beautiful but most 
secluded villa, to which only his intimate friends 
were admitted. He had great artistic talent, and 
in spite of his soHtude kept his mind alert and 
interested, as in his most active days. ' Jimmy 
Hudson ' was to all who knew him beloved and a 
bringer of sunshine. 

Florentine society had at that time a decidedly 
political and official aspect, out of which, however, 
occasionally peeped the former Boccaccio colouring. 
The King, the Ministers, the Senators and Deputies, 
the army, the diplomatic corps, and the thousands 
of employes who are the curse of Italy, all had to be 
squeezed into that small town. 

What had been Florentine society was wiped out, 
and only a few of the ladies, who belonged to families 
which had accepted the new order of things, ever 
appeared, except at some great balls given at the 
foreign legations, for they found it difficult to compete 
with the new and much more luxurious habits of the 
newcomers. 

The most striking aspect of a Florentine drawing- 



WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL 165 

room of that day was the immense preponderance 
of men — about nine to one lady. There was only 
one small set of about a dozen ladies and fifty men 
who formed real society. The ladies were all either 
clever or beautiful, and many of them young. The 
leader was Donna Laura Minghetti, a woman of great 
charm and originahty. The men, if they were Italians, 
had all played some part in their country's history ; 
there were statesmen and soldiers, senators and 
deputies, promising young artists, distinguished 
foreigners and diplomats, but politics were never 
mentioned in those days of repose, after the storm 
and stress of the last six or seven years. 

Whenever a lady appeared at one of these small 
parties she was immediately conducted to a seat, and 
a gilt Chiavari chair, now a thing of the past, was 
placed before her to put her feet upon the crossbar, 
because the marble floors were icily cold and only 
imperfectly carpeted. A dozen men seized other 
Chiavari chairs and at once made a circle around her, 
and there she remained for the rest of the evening. 
Two women never sat together ; if they wanted to 
talk they visited in the morning. It was a very 
restful and pleasant way of going into society, for one 
only had to sit and listen and be amused, very different 
from the undignified rush and push and agitation of 
the present day. 

I disUked most the late hours. Mothers with 
daughters used to arrive at my balls at two and three 



i66 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

o'clock A.M., and always wanted to dance till six in 
the morning, when it was the fashion to drive straight 
to the Cascine and breakfast there. Some ladies who 
had receptions every evening were never to be found 
before midnight, and they were nicknamed les dames 
d'apres minuit. This was the only sign that remained 
of the Bohemian element of former days, when the 
dame aux perles and others of that ilk led society. 

During the first spring that we passed in Florence 
the marriage of Prince Humbert to his cousin Princess 
Margaret took place. To please the Piedmontese, 
who were very sore at Turin being a capital no more, 
it was decided that the ceremony was to take place 
there, and all the Court officials and dignitaries, the 
Ministers and diplomats removed for it to Turin. 

The journey at that time took the v/hole day, and 
we travelled with Count and Countess Usedom, old 
friends of ours from Berhn days. Count Usedom as 
Prussian Minister had played an important part in 
Italy during the war of 1866, and had a great position 
in his own country. He was not only a clever diplomat, 
but a man with a vast knowledge of art and litera- 
ture. Very moderate and liant in all difficulties, he 
had often to smooth over those created by his witty 
but violent and imperious spouse. She was a Scotch- 
woman by birth, very original and amusing, and she 
spoke every language with the utmost fluency but quite 
incorrectly. On one occasion her carriage was held 
up during the Carnival in the Corso and not allowed 



WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL 167 

to cut the string. White with anger, she stood up 
in it to her full height, and stretching out her arms, 
she shouted : * lo sono la Prussia e si non mi lasciate 
passare vi metto tutti is prigione.' {' I am Prussia and 
if you do not let me pass I put you all into prison.') 
The effect was magical, for it was soon after Sadowa. 

Clothes had been a great preoccupation for these 
marriage festivities, and there were but few that at 
that time were wealthy enough in Florence to procure 
them from that great arbiter of taste, M. Worth, who 
ruled the ladies of the second Empire with a rod of 
iron. One day at Turin I entered Countess Usedom's 
room, for her apartments were contiguous to ours, 
and I found myself in the midst of a kind of battlefield 
of cherry-coloured ribbons and precious laces, which 
with a large pair of paper-scissors she was ripping off 
ruthlessly from one of Worth's choicest creations 
just arrived, simply because she did not hke it. Only 
a woman of that day can appreciate the independ- 
ence of spirit which could commit such a sacrilege. 
Personally I applauded her. 

Princess Margaret was at that time barely seven- 
teen. A slight, graceful girl, with a bright, vivacious 
manner. Her splendid fair hair waved thickly about 
her low forehead, her long, grey, almond-shaped eyes 
were fringed with thick brown lashes, and the full red 
hps, an inheritance from Austrian ancestors, were 
always smiling. Prince Humbert was a shy, slim 
young man, with rolhng eyes hke his father's and a 



i68 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

heavy moustache. Though reticent with people he 
did not know well, he was capable of strong and 
lasting friendships and great devotion. It was well 
known that he too possessed the physical courage 
which has always been the patrimony of the House 
of Savoy. 

It was in the month of April, and a lovely spring. 
Festivity followed festivity, and the old town of Turin, 
accustomed to the severe etiquette of the Sardinian 
Court, was so overwhelmed by young and democratic 
Italy that at some great civic function the ladies were 
nearly thrown down, had their jewels torn off, and 
the whole festival degenerated into a kind of bear- 
garden. Such things cannot be avoided in new and 
unregulated communities. 

At Florence the main attraction consisted in a 
tournament in the meadows of the Cascine, a truly 
artistic sight, for the Italian moves in a fancy dress 
as if it were his own, and has the instinct of the 
part he is playing. Prince Humbert as one of his 
Piedmontese ancestors was a most picturesque figure. 

The one who, however, attracted most attention 
during all the festivities was the Crown Prince 
of Prussia, later Emperor Frederic III. He was 
then in all splendour of his manhood and with the 
glory of Sadowa about him. He was so fascinated 
by Princess Margaret that he could talk of nothing 
else. He thought her so clever, so natural and 
winning. This was, I think, the first beginning of 



WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL 169 

the intimacy of the Royal houses of Hohenzollern 
and Savoy which has been such a feature during the 
last twenty years. No other foreign Princess attended 
the marriage ceremonies, for several of the Royal 
Houses alhed to that of Savoy had been alienated by 
the recent events in Italy, and they feared the dis- 
pleasure of Pius IX, though it only applied to 
public events, for it was no secret that personally he 
had a leaning towards the Re Galantuomo. 

It is a fact that at the time when King Victor 
Emmanuel still thought of remarrying, it was not the 
hand of a Roman Catholic Princess he sought, but 
that of Princess Mary of Cambridge, then in the full 
bloom of her youth and beauty. The negotiations 
advanced to a certain point, and were conducted by 
Count Cavour himself, through Lady Ely, Queen 
Victoria's lady-in-waiting and friend, to whom Count 
Cavour was personally devoted. They were, un- 
fortunately for Italy, broken off, for it may be surmised 
with certainty that such a personality as Princess 
Mary's would have had a most beneficial influence 
on many problems in the country over which she 
would have reigned. 

I must confess that, though we lived almost 
entirely in the society of pohticians, I did not know 
much about or interest myself in political events. 
Nobody ever mentioned them in society, everybody 
seemed to rest upon their oars, and the art and beauty 
of Florence and its surroundings entirely absorbed 



170 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

me. I could think of nothing else, and found willing 
and learned cicerones to guide me amongst the ItaUan 
statesmen, though they sometimes asked smilingly 
whether I wanted to write a guide-book, for it was quite 
unfashionable, nay, I may say, unheard of, for ladies 
to meddle with art at that time. Things are quite 
changed now ; many Italian women not only take a 
platonic interest in art, but they have become execu- 
tive, as is proved by the exquisite embroideries and 
woven textures produced under their direction by 
the wives and daughters of agricultural labourers. 

Italy was then still to a great degree untouched; 
many of its masterpieces were left in the original 
places for which they had been wrought, and had not 
been taken to museums or dragged out of the country. 
I learnt a great deal about Italy from Lord Malmes- 
bury, one of our most frequent visitors. He knew 
the country well and had lived in it and loved it when 
he was quite a young man. He had known the 
Countess Guiccioli (who at this time lived in her villa 
near Florence) very well, and from her gathered a 
number of anecdotes about Lord Byron, who had 
only died a few years before Lord Malmesbury first 
knew her. One she used to relate to show his love 
of animals was that every year a goose was bought 
to fatten for Michaelmas, but when the time came 
Lord Byron would not allow it to be killed. At last 
he travelled about with six or seven geese slung under 
his carriage. Countess GuiccioH later in life married 



WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL 171 

the Anglophobe Marquis Boissy d'Anglas, but at that 
time she led a very retired hfe and never mixed in 
society. 

Lord Malmesbury was much annoyed that, when 
Countess GuiccioU's memoirs appeared, she had left 
out all the amusing stories about Lord Byron which 
he had so often heard ; however, he himself had the 
same lapses of memory when he published his 
' Reminiscences of an ex-Minister,' for none of the 
adventures and extraordinary experiences which he 
had related to his intimate friends appeared in them. 

In those days Florence was not, as it now is, the 
playground of all nations just for a few weeks in spring, 
then to remain empty for the rest of the year. The 
real Florentines hardly ever left their palaces, except 
for a few weeks in October, and it was said of the Mar- 
chese Piccolellis (the stepfather of Countess Walewska, 
so well known in England) that he had never left 
Florence for twenty-two years, except to drive his 
four-in-hand every day for an hour in the Cascine. 

Florence always has been the preferred town of the 
English, and many are the interesting and illustrious 
names of those who dwelt there and still shed a 
romantic charm on the places where they hved. 
Mrs. Browning had died in the Casa Guidi only a 
few years before we came. Walter Savage Landor 
also lived no more on the southern slopes of Fiesole ; 
the Villa Bricchieri, where Owen Meredith had 
written his charming ' Good night in the Porch,' stood 



172 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

empty ; Clare Claremont had left the two rooms of 
the almost ruined old villa which she inhabited at 
Bellosguardo, and was a daily governess in Florence. 
What an ending for the mother of Allegra ! Charles 
Lever lived with his lively and witty daughters on the 
Costa San Giorgio, and Tom Trollope wrote his lovely 
Httle story of the Beata in the villa which is now a 
lodging-house in the middle of the town. That curious 
old artist Kirkup, whose name none remembers now, 
lived in two rooms over the Ponte Vecchio. He had 
been Sir Thomas Lawrence's most promising scholar, 
and had painted, or rather, drawn, all the beauties 
of the Court of George IV. They were exquisite, 
delicate drawings, and a few of them still hung in 
his bare and lofty rooms. He had the most wonder- 
ful occult library of that day, which unfortunately at 
his death was dispersed into unknown hands, probably 
for a song, for at that time nobody knew anything of 
occultism and spiritualism had not yet emerged from 
the phase of table-rapping. 

I do not think a picture of Florence would be 
complete without my mentioning Lady Orford, who 
had lived there for a great number of years. She 
was an extremely witty and clever woman, charitable 
in deed and speech, but family disagreements had 
driven her from England when still quite young, with 
her two daughters, and sympathy had attracted her 
to Italy. She had in almost everything adopted 
Italian habits, and was one of the ladies who received 



WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL 173 

after midnight ; generally only men, who did not 
even come in evening dress. At the end of the room 
was a long supper-table, with innumerable bottles of 
Chianti wine, hams and other cold meats ; the room 
was filled with the smoke of strong cigars, and the 
hostess herself smoked. We were in the habit of 
going there once a year, but by her express desire 
we announced ourselves the day before. Cigars 
were banished and everybody was in evening dress, 
much, I fear, to the discomfort of the company. 

It was a careless life, full of charm, art and pleasure, 
that we led in Florence for the first two years, till we 
were suddenly awakened from it on the 17th of July 
1870. 

We had taken for the summer a beautiful old villa 
situated on the last spurs of Monte Albano, about 
twelve miles south of Florence. Built by the 
Grand Duke Francis, in obedience to a caprice of 
Bianca Capello's, it was said that from its balconies 
the Cardinal Ferdinand di Medici watched for the 
messenger coming from Poggio Accaiano in the valley 
below, where Bianca and her husband were lying 
sick unto death, after eating of the cherry-tart which 
either Bianca or the Cardinal had poisoned. As soon 
as Ferdinand became Grand Duke he resigned his 
ecclesiastical dignities, for he had never taken any 
vows, and married Christina of Lorraine, the grand- 
daughter of Catherine de Medicis, and they had lived 
in the spacious halls and galleries of this earthly 



\ 



174 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

paradise.; Such it may indeed be called, for the eye 
roams from the fir-clad heights of Vallombrosa on to the 
Apennines of Modena, and farther still to the Apuan 
Alps. To the south the silver Hne of the Mediterranean, 
the Siennese hills and the mysterious plains and 
marshes of the Maremma were closed by cloud-crowned 
Monte Amiata, from the summit of which, it is said, 
on a clear day you can see the cupola of St. Peter's 
and that of Santa Maria del' Fiore, and the two seas 
which wash the Itahan shores. A large golden full 
moon hung over the Val d'Arno as we sat with our 
guests on the spacious loggia, enjoying the sea-breeze 
which always rises at ten o'clock after a stifling day. 
Somebody was strumming Itahan airs on a piano, 
and several of our friends strayed down the wide 
stone stairs on to the green lawn which surrounded 
the great castellated palace on all sides. Suddenly 
the music lapsed into a valse, and two or three couples 
whirled over the grass. The diamonds ghnted in the 
moonHght on the ladies' hair and the large pearls 
shone on their necks, the warm scent of aromatic 
herbs, brushed by their flowing dresses, was wafted 
up to us, and over all lay the indescribable witchery 
of an Itahan summer night. 

A telegram was brought to my husband : ' War 
declared between France and Prussia ! ' It was hke 
the blare of trumpets awakening one from sleep ! 
Though things had looked serious for some time, they 
seemed to have quieted down again. As soon as the 



WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL 175 

Hohenzollern candidature was withdrawn, search 
had been made for another king to fill the Spanish 
throne. My husband at once thought of the Duke 
of Aosta, and even went so far as to sound King Victor 
Emmanuel, who honoured him with his particular 
friendship and confidence, whether he would be 
favourable to the proposal. The answer was in the 
affirmative, and my husband wrote privately to the 
Secretary for Foreign Affairs (Earl Granville) to 
inform him of it. The reply was that it could not 
be considered. Yet, after all the misery and blood- 
shed of that terrible year, it was the Duke of Aosta 
who became King of Spain. 

King Victor Emmanuel's sympathies, and certainly 
his gratitude, were in the beginning of the war on the 
French side, and so were those of society in general. 
All ' the smart set ' who had often been to Paris, 
had been presented at the Imperial Court and invited 
to Compiegne, remembered the amusing days they 
had spent at what was then considered the centre of 
Europe. The common people all sided with Germany, 
very much as they did in England. 

The French sympathisers, however, received a 
severe shock with the surrender of Sedan, as was also 
the case with the members of the French Legation 
at Florence, some of whom had played a not unim- 
portant part at the Tuileries. From the moment the 
Emperor was taken prisoner their interest in the war 
became very platonic ; they had, however, the mot 



176 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

d'ordre not to show themselves at any balls or parties. 
I had, at one of the first fierce battles around Metz, 
lost a most dear and near relative and never went 
out during the whole winter. Intimate friends used 
to come and see me, and the members of the French 
Legation were in the habit of doing so at least once 
or twice a week. One evening they were all assembled 
in my drawing-room, even the military attache was 
among them, when my husband received a telegram. 
After a moment he read it out. It was the fall of 
Metz ! Nothing but this had been talked of for weeks, 
and though it decided the fortunes of the war, none 
of the Frenchmen seemed much pained, the Imperial 
feeling was too strong with them. It put me in mind 
of the emigres in Conde's army during the Revolution, 
who had only Royalist sympathies and no French 
ones. 

On the 20th of September the walls of Rome had 
fallen before the assault of the ItaHan soldiers, for 
France was unable to protect the Pope any longer. 
The determination to have Rome as the capital was 
the passionate wish of the whole nation, and not to be 
resisted. 

The King was probably the one who least of all 
Italians wished for ' Roma Capitale.' He went there 
for a few days and hastily returned to his beloved 
mountains. He always knew that Rome would be 
fatal to him, and stayed there as little as he could. 

In the spring of 1871 the whole machinery of the 



WHEN FLORENCE WAS THE CAPITAL 177 

capital was set in motion and moved to the Eternal 
City. Fiorenza la gentile, the home of art and flowers, 
was deserted, but not, I think, distressed, for deep 
down in the heart of every ItaHan lives the passion 
for his native city and the wish to keep it for himself ; 
and does not every Florentine know that, capital or 
no capital, Florence is the jewel of Italy ? 



CHAPTER VIII 

LA CITTA ETERNA 
A REMINISCENCE OF THE SEVENTIES 

It was one evening at Copenhagen during the winter 
of 1861-2, when, talking to some diplomats of the 
posts they would prefer to go to, I exclaimed, ' The 
ideal post would be Rome as an Embassy. I mean 
to go there ! ' Everybody laughed, for all thought 
that such a thing would be impossible. Since the 
days of James II, no English Ambassador had been 
accredited to the Pope, and who could foresee in 
1862 a combination of circumstances which would 
make Rome the Capital of United Italy ! 

This was the time of peace before the German- 
Danish war, which eventually led to the Austro- 
Prussian one, which in its turn caused the Franco- 
Prussian war by the transference of the centre of 
weight to Berlin. The Pope was well protected by 
Napoleon III, it seemed certain that his successor 
would continue the same poHcy, and the boldest 

imagination could not then forge a chain of events 

178 



LA CITTA ETERNA 179 

which would lead to Victor Emmanuel being pro- 
claimed King of United Italy, in the space of less 
than nine years from the evening when I expressed 
my fantastic desire. 

When on the early morning of Christmas Day, 
1871, I saw the dome of St. Peter's float transparent 
and unreal in the icy crystalline air, as the train wound 
leisurely round the low green hills of the Campagna, I 
asked myself what would be our lives in this new 
Capital, where everything was still chaotic, and where 
there could be no precedents or traditions which 
would particularly affect us ? 

We had come straight from England, with only 
one day in frozen Paris, where the ghastly destruction 
of the Commune stared one in the face wherever one 
went. The winter was a particularly severe one, and, 
as we drove from the station to our hotel, I noticed 
all the beautiful fountains (one of Rome's chief charms) 
were ice-bound and covered with long stalactites — a 
sight I only once saw repeated there, during our 
twelve years' residence. 

The new state of things in Rome seemed to have 
attracted the whole world, and every hotel was full 
to overflowing. A great number of Royalties had 
congregated together. The Prince and Princess of 
Wales were to be seen every day in the churches and 
galleries with the King and Queen of Denmark and 
all their family, and the Queen of Hanover with her 
children. Indeed, it was there that the marriage of 

N 2 



i8o SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Princess Thyra, the Princess of Wales's youngest 
sister, to the Duke of Cumberland (the King of 
Hanover's only son) was arranged. 

I cannot now enumerate the many crowned heads 
that came to Rome that winter, and all the interesting 
men and women I caught glimpses of, for, being in 
very deep mourning, we did not go into society, and 
only met people casually on the Pincio, or at some 
church festival, or in a gallery. 

The chaos of a new Capital cannot be described. 
Nobody seemed to know anything for certain, or 
where anybody lived. Everybody was house-hunting, 
and nobody could find a shelter. Prince Doria, 
whom I knew well from former visits to Rome, offered 
us the beautiful little Palace in the Villa Pamphyli, but 
there were no fireplaces, and none could be put in, on 
account of the decorations, and at last we rented 
from him his Villa of Albano, until we should find 
something suitable in Rome. 

The Villa had lovely gardens, and was in an ideal 
situation ; and among my most cherished memories 
are the drives along the Via Appia Antica, on returning 
from Rome after a busy day, when I watched the sun 
sinking into the Tyrrhenean sea, and gilding with its 
last rays the long line of tombs which border the 
ancient way, the most mysterious, solemn, silent, and 
pathetic companions, to those who understand. 

King Victor Emmanuel, who disliked Rome even 
more than he did Florence, and was in the habit of 



LA CITTA ETERNA i8i 

saying that it would prove fatal to him, only came 
from time to time when important business had to 
be transacted ; but the Prince and Princess of Pied- 
mont lived in the Quirinal, and represented him 
socially. Masses of foreigners, especially English, 
wished to be presented at Court. The Princess very 
graciously received the English ladies in audience, and 
one of her own ladies, half English by birth, had 
undertaken to present her semi-countrywomen, when 
a good number of demands for presentations had 
accumulated. I need not say that as under the 
circumstances there was nobody to refer to, it was 
impossible to select, and the numbers grew every 
day. 

Shortly after my arrival, I wrote to ask when I might 
pay my respects to Princess Margaret, at whose 
marriage I had assisted, and whom I had frequently 
seen in Florence. When I went at the appointed 
time, I was received by one of her ladies, who knew 
me quite well, but who, staring me in the face with 
frightened eyes, said : ' Oh, but it is much too early ! 
Duchess X, who presents the English ladies, is not 
here, and the others have not yet arrived ! ' 

' Chere Princesse!' I responded, 'I am not an 
English tourist, but Lady Paget, and I have come to 
my private audience.' Recognition then dawned in her 
face, and I onl}' give this little incident to show the 
state of bewilderment everybody was in. I should 
like to mention one curious remark made to me by 



i82 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Mr. Marsh, the learned and widely respected American 
Minister, after he had been in Rome a few years, 
which was to the effect that among all the Americans 
who had come there during that time, he had not 
been able to persuade more than two to go to Court. 
Considering that Rome is at present entirely under 
the American sway, and that numbers of great 
Roman families are composed almost entirely, as far 
as the ladies go, of Americans, this is remarkable, and 
shows how entirely social conditions have changed in 
the United States, as well as at Rome. 

The Court of Turin had always been one where a 
severe and antiquated etiquette had obtained, and now 
this was all changed and upset by the advent of young 
and democratic Italy, with no traditions at all, and one 
had to be a genius of intuition and adaptiveness to 
steer one's way clear of all social reefs and shoals. 

Everybody who remembers Rome in the Papal 
times would have been struck by the unique and 
picturesque solemnity of the social functions, the 
great bare, ill-lit, and unwarmed palatial rooms, the 
Cardinals in scarlet, the thrones in the princely houses, 
and the flock of retainers in gaudy, ill-fitting liveries. 
All this was suddenly swept away by a busy, clam- 
ouring, lively, dancing and dining crowd, by calori- 
feres and gas ; and all the hateful trash and frippery 
so dear to semi-artistic minds of the seventies adorned 
the walls. Poor Mr. Swinton, the once so sought- 
after painter of delicate portraits of the English 



LA CITTA ETERNA 183 

beauties of the forties and fifties, but very feeble then, 
remarked to me, after paying a visit to the high 
priestess of this new departure, that he had felt like 
standing on his head at a bric-a-brac, gone mad. The 
description was accurate. 

The Roman aristocracy had for so long looked 
upon themselves as a kind of power to whom the 
Ambassadors were accredited, and the foreigners who 
came to Rome had to make all the advances to be 
admitted to their houses, that the sudden change of 
scenery caused numbers of difficulties. The diplomats 
took their cue from the Court only, and modelled 
themselves upon the rules laid down by it, and they 
caused a good deal of friction. Then there was the 
diplomatic corps accredited to the Pope, which was 
not supposed to ' frayer ' with us, but amongst them 
were often old friends, and then the rules were broken. 
The younger members of Papal Embassies, especially 
of the French one, were to be seen daily at our house, 
and even went so far as to come to some of our balls 
given in the spring during race meetings, when the 
Italian Royalties were absent ; but I believe they 
were severely rebuked for these transgressions. 
Roman society was sharply divided between whites 
and blacks at first ; but even during the twelve years 
that we were in Rome most of the younger generation 
had gone over to the whites — not on account of any 
particular convictions, but simply because it was more 
amusing and there was more to do. 



i84 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Looking back upon my life in Rome, it appears 
to me like a brilliant kaleidoscope, without any very 
salient points. 

After the tremendous events and changes induced 
by the Franco-Prussian war, France had, for the first 
time after many years, ceased to be a menace to the 
peace of Europe, but the Emperor Napoleon was still 
living. On the gth of January 1873 we were dining 
at the Austrian Legation, together with several mem- 
bers of the French Legation, when a telegram was 
brought to my husband, announcing the Emperor's 
death at Chislehurst. The French diplomats were 
absolutely indifferent, and I was particularly shocked 
by the frivolous remarks of one of the secretaries 
who had been an intime at the Tuileries, where he led 
all the cotillons, and had been loaded with benefits 
by his Imperial master. 

As regards external affairs, the feeling of peace and 
relaxation in those days was very profound. Italy 
had, however, much to occupy her concerning internal 
affairs, and was especially harried by the brigand 
question in Sicily, which was a continual sore. I 
remember two young Englishmen imploring me to 
intercede with my husband to get them a permit ' to 
pick the brigands off about Mount Etna, it would be 
such fun ! ' 

Rome and the Campagna were also very unsafe. 
Minghetti, then Prime Minister, was knocked about 
and deprived of his watch and purse, one evening, in 



LA CITTA ETERNA 185 

the Foro Trajano, as he was leaving the Palazzo 
Roccagiovine. Duke Grazioli, riding in his own park 
with his son and daughter, was attacked by brigands. 
I was never allowed to go out riding during our stay 
at the Villa Doria at Albano unless accompanied by 
a man with a revolver in the holster of his saddle. 

Much to the discomfort of the Minister of Foreign 
Affairs, who hated captures of foreigners by brigands 
more than anything else, I evolved the idea of driving 
from Albano to Siena via Capraruola, the Ciminian 
forest, Viterbo, and the lake of Bolsena, the very worst 
district for ' malviventi.' My brother and Lord X 
were my companions, and we had four fleet horses to 
our light carriage. Along the whole road were relays 
of carahinieri, and in the most ill-famed parts two of 
them accompanied us on horseback. We never saw 
a brigand, but our hotel bills were very much increased 
by these signs of our importance. 

The diplomatic corps had been much modified 
since its departure from Florence. The Communard 
Comte de Choiseul, son of the famous Due de Praslin 
who murdered his wife in Louis Philippe's day, had 
been replaced by M. Fournier, the friend of Renan. 
He was clever, doctrinaire, violent, and cassant; very 
cultured and intimate with all scientific and literary 
people. He was short, thin, pale-faced, and sharp- 
featured, and always put me in mind of the Girondin 
Manuel. He ought to have been clad in a long brown 
coat and cape, and a low, wide-brimmed hat. His 



i86 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

wife, an excellent, simple woman, who adored him, 
used to pray that he should break an arm, because 
her happiness was too great. My husband, who had 
known the Fourniers at other posts, asked why it was 
not her own arm she prayed for. She did not think 
that would affect her happiness sufficiently, was her 
answer. Such elements did not blend well with sar- 
castic people of the world ; they were soon removed, 
and replaced by the Marquis and Marquise de NoaiUes. 
The Ambassador who, in spite of his aristocratic 
name, was supposed to have extreme revolutionary 
leanings, was gentleness itself, and allowed his wife, 
his son, his Embassy to do exactly as they liked, a 
modus Vivendi not usually associated with the in- 
tolerant Republican. He was a man of great culture 
and literary talent, in conversation mildly sarcastic. 
He used to sit for hours inside my huge fireplace, 
smoking up the chimney, because he could not be 
one minute without a cigarette. The Marquise was 
a Pole, whose great beauty was now somewhat marred 
by too much embonpoint ; but the sway she had for^ 
many years, during the time of her widowhood before 
her second marriage, exercised over many hearts, stiU 
prevailed to some degree. She was by no means 
collet monte, but when the great portals of the Palazzo 
Farnese, which the French Government with true 
Republican generosity had secured and partly fur- 
nished for the Embassy, were thrown open every 
Monday to crowds less remarkable for quality than 



LA CITTA ETERNA 187 

quantity, she used to select a friend, and, taking him 
to the long gallery, she pointed with lovely hands to 
some very risque subject in Giulio Romano's beautiful 
ceiling, and, with black lashes dropped over blue 
eyes, she sighed wistfully ' Et dire que tout cela a ete 
fait a I'instar d'un pretre ! ' 

The dinners at the Farnese were unrivalled for 
gorgeousness, and all the official world was invited 
to them. They were sometimes enlivened by the 
son of the house, aged ten, careering round the table 
on his tricycle adorned only in his nightgown. 

Mme. de Noailles, who was amiability itself to 
everybody, sometimes remonstrated with me for not 
being sufficiently catholic in my invitations. She 
used to point at me, saying : ' Regardez cette Am- 
bassadrice qui ne connait pas les Ministres.' This 
was in a sense true, for after the Minghetti adminis- 
tration had been replaced by one of a very different 
kind, the men who composed it never went into 
society or made any attempt to make my acquaintance, 
and the principal one amongst them was then coping 
with the difficulty of having three wives at the same 
time, one of them being an Enghshwoman. I there- 
fore saw no particular reason to take steps to know 
them. Germany and France were the rivals for 
popularity, but England could afford to stand by and 
look on, for all Itahans of that generation knew her 
to be their true friend, who had powerfully supported 
them in their fight for unity. 



i88 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Before leaving the French diplomats, I must 
mention Madame de Corcelles, the wife of the Am- 
bassador to the Pope. She was a delightful old lady, 
who often visited me in spite of prohibitions. * Car,' 
she declared, * je suis la petite fille de Lafayette, et 
je fais ce qui me plait.' She never addressed the 
Cardinals as Eminence, but hailed them in cheery 
tones as her ' dear Cardinals.' When one day she 
visited Pius IX, he asked her whether she had 
seen all the sights of Rome. ' Oui, Saint Pere,' she 
responded, ' mais ce que je desire le plus c'est de voir 
un conclave.' That Pope had the saving grace of 
sense of humour, and he it was who told the story. 

Prussia never had had any Embassies anywhere, 
only Ministers plenipotentiary ; but Imperial Germany 
was the first to recognise Italy as a Great Power, and 
to accredit an ambassador. For this important post 
M. de Keudell was chosen and accorded a triumphant 
reception in Rome, both at Court and in society ; 
for by this time all sympathies had shifted from 
France to Germany. Southern imagination invested 
M. de Keudell with Macchiavellian inventiveness and 
Talleyrand's astuteness. He was supposed to be 
Prince Bismarck's alter ego, whilst he was not even his 
replica on blotting-paper, and it was only the aura of 
the man of blood and iron which shone around him. 
In reality M. de Keudell was the simplest, most naive, 
straight, and unsophisticated Prussian soldier, who 
had been translated into an ambassador's uniform. 



LA CITTA ETERNA 189 

I, who when I was a girl at Court, had once sat 
behind his square white cuirassier's back, as he with 
huge hands called forth in the purest, most soothing 
and classical way the melodies of Bach, Mozart, and 
Beethoven, soon discovered that the mystery of his 
appointment was to be looked for in the thrall which 
that divine music had exercised on the receptive mind 
of the great Chancellor. Besides that, M. de Keudell 
was discipline in person, and what more could be 
wanted ? He was enormous, over six feet, and more 
than broad in proportion. Out of a round bullet 
head with white or flaxen hair — I never found out 
which — shone a pair of small but very honest brown 
eyes. He was utterly without guile, and, being the 
doyen of the Ambassadors, would have had to cope 
with many difficulties of form and etiquette, had not 
his happy nature allowed him to float about in the 
situation in unconscious bliss, till his popularity 
landed him on some point of vantage. As Mme. de 
Keudell was always ill, her duties as doyenne of the 
ambassadresses devolved upon me, and I had fre- 
quently to confer with her husband, so as to take 
united action. I need not say that with such a man 
everything was easy as soon as he was quite persuaded 
that the proposed course was absolutely right and 
straight. 

There was in those days a very large English 
colony in Rome, and also an enormous influx of 
tourists, many of whom brought introductions from 



igo SCENES AND MEMORIES 

people we barely knew. There were also those who 
had printed letters from the Foreign Office recom- 
mending them to the Ambassador's good offices and 
protection. These all imagined they had a right to 
be invited to what they termed our * public balls ' 
and receptions. To satisfy them was not easy, and 
when I insisted that, when the King and Queen 
honoured our balls with their presence, the ladies 
should come in full dress, and not, as they frequently 
did, in walking frocks with striped Como blankets 
over their shoulders and mittens on their hands, there 
was an outcry ; but I felt it my duty to be firm. 
Nobody who was not in Rome in those days can have 
a conception of the numbers of English who invaded 
it. A good number came to see the sights, others for 
the Church functions ; some came for hunting, and 
some for riding only, and never went to see St. Peter's 
or the Coliseum. Many spent all their time in picking 
up coloured marbles and drinking tea together, but 
all of them wanted to be amused in the evening, and, 
as there were hardly any theatres, the Court and the 
Embassies were the only resource, for the Roman 
houses were not open to them. 

From November to June it was a continuous 
string of new faces, and the dinners, luncheons, con- 
certs, and balls we had to give seemed unending. 
Lent brought no relief, for Rome was fuller than ever 
at that time. On every fine afternoon when there 
was no hunting all the best lawn-tennis players among 



LA CITTA ETERNA 19. 

the young Romans assembled in our lovely gardens, 
and crowds of ladies came to watch this, till then, 
unknown game. The gardens, now alas ! reduced 
to a third of their extent, covered the grounds of 
some ancient villa, and were bounded on the east by 
the Aurelian wall and on the south by the Castro 
Pretorio. Secular ilex avenues gave a grateful shade 
in spring and summer, and led to a grove which in 
June was paved with scarlet poppies, out of which, 
at one's approach, arose clouds of white doves. The 
place was so lonely during the first years of our tenancy 
that when I walked there by myself in the gloaming 
of a frosty winter evening I saw the foxes creep out 
of the copses, seeking for some prey. All this has 
gone, and so have the Ludovisi gardens and many 
other haunts of the Oreads and Dr57ads. The Rome 
of to-day knows those mysteries no more. When 
first we lived in what was then the Villa Torlonia, 
but which now has been the English Embassy for 
forty years, it was surrounded by vineyards, out of 
which loomed ruins and ancient monuments. For a 
quarter of a mile there were no houses, and I was 
constantly warned by my Roman friends of the 
dangers I ran when returning late at night with my 
jewels on from some ball or party. The servants were 
terrified, and would not go messages after dark, for 
high walls, with here and there dark recesses, lined 
the road. The gentlemen of the Embassy, when re- 
turning in the evening on foot, took the precaution of 



192 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

walking in the middle of the road, and carried heavy- 
sticks. I confess that these first years in sunny, 
peaceful, untouched, and mysterious Rome, had a 
great charm for me. It was romantic, and one 
might, with a little imagination, have invested it 
with a spice of danger. 

Then there were the long rides over the undulating 
flower-enamelled Campagna, the spins of twenty or 
thirty miles through fields of asphodel, tinted rose-red 
by the setting sun, for we defied the ancient Roman 
superstition of coming in at sunset. The Embassy, 
which was close to the Porta Pia, soon became a 
meeting-place for all our friends who liked riding, as 
the Campagna was an open book to us. My children 
brought their playfellows, and these Uttle creatures, 
some of them on tiny ponies, tore across the smooth 
green grass, sometimes followed by a stream of huge 
white Maremma shepherd-dogs, at a pace which often 
made me tremble. Mothers confided their daughters 
to me, and many a marriage was thus made in the 
saddle under my chaperonage. 

We knew the Campagna better than anybody in 
Rome, yet in spite of this we sometimes got into 
difficulties owing to the frequent changes of boundaries. 
One day I was riding alone with Dr. Nevin. He was 
the well-known and energetic incumbent of the 
American Church in Rome — very popular, and quite 
a character in those days, before a long illness 
sapped his powers. He had been a soldier, and 



LA CITTA ETERNA 193 

through the War of Secession. He was a friend of 
Dr. DoelHnger, and yet was well noted at the Vatican. 
He seemed to know most people, although he was 
very poor and went little into society. A lady once 
sent him a cheque for ten pounds anonymously, 
because his clothes were so shabby. I doubt whether 
he bought new ones with the money. He was very 
enterprising, and reasonable people thought him a 
little — extraordinary ; he rode a little skinny mare, 
whom he apostrophised as ' Baby,' and who got over 
or under most things. That afternoon we had lost 
our way in the long valleys which extend from the 
monastery of the Tre Fontane towards Albano, when 
we suddenly came upon a great number of convicts 
digging up a large extent of soil, and, in answer to 
our questions, we were told that the monks were 
extending their eucalyptus plantations in that direc- 
tion. These plantations have made this most insalu- 
brious part of the Campagna quite healthy and very 
beautiful. In the distance we espied, near another gang 
of convicts, what appeared to be an Arab on horseback. 
Our curiosity being aroused, we put our horses into 
a canter, and soon came up with what we found to 
be a monk, a Trappist monk in a white cowl with 
a black stole over it. He was young and handsome, 
and as we approached he vainly tried to pull his 
narrow skirt down over his white cotton stockings. 
We asked permission to pass through the lands 
appertaining to the Abbey, and he courteously 



194 



SCENES AND MEMORIES 



offered to show us the way. I made a remark to 
Dr. Nevin expressing my admiration of the monk's 
straight seat and manly looks, but my companion 
pointed to the purple tassels hanging from the 
hat, and said : ' Take care, he will understand.' 
At this moment our cicerone, galloping on before us, 
took a wide ditch in splendid style, and, flinging open 
a heavy gate to let us pass, bowed a low and silent 
adieu. As he drew his hand back from the gate, 
the sun glinted upon a great jewel in a ring, which 
revealed him to be the mitred Abbot of Tre Fontane. 

This apparition left a vivid impression upon both of 
us, and Dr. Nevin took some trouble to find out who 
the young Abbot was before he became a religious. 
He was told that he belonged to a great Piedmontese 
family and was a dashing cavalry officer, and that a 
tragic love affair drove him, like de Ranee, the founder 
of the order, to become a Trappist, These monks 
have strict cloture, and are hardly ever allowed to 
speak. The Abbot only may go abroad. 

M. Minghetti, for whom riding was the one re- 
laxation from his arduous work, was my constant 
and most staid companion, and used to exclaim, with 
his calm, seraphic smile : ' Ah, but this is not riding, 
it is steeplechasing ! ' ' Corrono corrono tutto il tempo 
come disperati ! ' (' They race all the time like mad- 
men ! ') Many were the interesting conversations I 
had with him during those rides. He had at one time, 
I think it was in 1849, been much in the intimacy of 



LA CITTA ETERNA 195 

Pius IX : in fact, he held a position of great trust 
and responsibiHty. One evening he was alone with 
the Pontiff talking of the threatening aspect of the 
political horizon, when the Pope arose, and, drawing 
aside the curtain, pointed to a brilliant star, and 
exclaimed : ' Look at that star ! As long as it shines, 
none can hurt me.' Minghetti told me this to show 
how strong in those days still was the belief in stars. 
Napoleon III also had his star, and so had many 
others. Pius IX and Victor Emmanuel both had 
superstitions, of which, however, their successors 
were entirely devoid. 

Though the Pope had twice excommunicated the 
King, they really loved each other, for they were 
made of the same kind of stuff, and both belonged 
emphatically to the days that are past and gone. 
Impulsive in action, primesautier and generous in 
temperament, they allowed themselves the luxury 
of sometimes letting their feelings deviate from what 
others might consider the stern path of duty. When 
King Victor Emmanuel died, his chaplain, against 
all rules, gave him absolution for everything, though 
he was under the major excommunication. The 
Pope sent for the priest, inquired most feelingly about 
the King's last moments, and when the chaplain 
confessed, Pius IX, with tears in his eyes, cried : * Hai 
fatto bene ! hai fatto bene ! ' (' You have done 
well ! you have done well ! ') In another month the 
Pontiff followed the King. 

o 2 



196 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

The death of King Victor Emmanuel made a great 
sensation ; it was so unexpected, for he had a strong 
constitution and was not past middle age. A shiver 
of apprehension had swept over the Court when, at 
the New Year's reception of 1878, the Princess of 
Piedmont and all her ladies appeared in deep black 
with long crepe veils, because some time before, the 
King of Saxony, grandfather of the Princess, had 
died. It was customary on these occasions to sub- 
stitute white or grey for black. A few days later 
it was whispered that the King was ill, not dangerously, 
said the doctors, but it might become serious. Some 
said it was miliary, others talked of Roman fever, 
and the most anxious ones murmured something 
about perniciosa, that most dreaded of all fevers 
in Rome. 

On the afternoon of January the 9th I was walking 
in the garden, and as I passed the iron gates a man 
galloped up and called out ' E morto il Re ! ' and then 
galloped on. 

The effect of the King's death in Italy was a 
tremendous one. It was not only the personal glamour 
which surrounded him, but the feeling of security 
that his strong character gave to the still heterogeneous 
unity of the country, which was thereby abruptly 
shaken. 

We went to see the King lie in State. He was so 
enormously swollen and disfigured by his illness that 
they had been obliged to raise the catafalque almost 



LA CITTA ETERNA 197 

to the ceiling of the lofty hall, and had disposed his 
body so that it could hardly be seen ; or the people, 
always suspicious, would certainly have said that he 
had been poisoned. 

At the funeral the whole population stood for 
hours in the biting wind, silent and uncovered, in the 
streets through which the procession was to pass. 
One of the most touching features in it was the King's 
old war-horse, which he had ridden in many battles, 
immediately following the hearse, trapped all in black. 

Rome had been fatal to this first King of Italy, 
as he always said it would be. His fervent wish to 
rest with his ancestors on the wind-swept Superga, 
facing the majestic chain of the snow-capped Alps, 
could not be gratified. His body was laid in the 
Roman Pantheon, into which the Roman sun and 
the Roman moon shine through the open roof, and 
where the waves of the Roman Tiber sweep the marble 
floors when the waters are high. When Pope Pius IX 
died, just a month after the King, this event, which 
had been anticipated for so long, with so many hopes 
and fears, and so much curiosity, created very little 
excitement. The King's death had dwarfed it, and 
it was the cross of Piedmont on the cross of St. Peter's 
to the bitter end. When Pope Leo XIII was elected, 
whom St. Malachi in his prophecies had qualified as 
' Lumen in Coelo,' it was found that the noble family 
of the Counts Pecci, to which he belonged, bore a 
comet in a blue sky in their arms. The Pope's arms 



igS SCENES AND MEMORIES 

play a great part, for they are put up in many places, 
and over all the Embassies accredited to the Holy 
See. St. Malachi's motto for the present Pope was 
' Ignis ardens,' and it was found that he belonged to 
a religious community who had for their badge a 
vessel with flames coming out of it. 

As these prophecies, which I believe were made 
in the twelfth or thirteenth century, and first printed 
in 1595, are very little known, I will give those which 
are more or less in the memory of man, and which 
one can verify. It will be observed that there are 
only eight more Popes to come, and, considering 
latter-day events, these ominous predictions give one 
matter for serious thought. 

Pius VII. Aquila Rapax, alludes to captivity 
with Napoleon. 

Leo XII. Canis et Coluber, alludes to arms. 

Pius VIII. Vir Religiosus, alludes to character. 

Gregory XVI. De Balneis Etruriae, alludes to 
place of birth. 

Pius IX. Crux de Cruce, alludes to Piedmontese 
invasion. 

Leo XIII. Lumen in Coelo, alludes to arms. 

Pius X. Ignis Ardens, alludes to religious arms. 

* * * Religio Depopulata. 

* * * Fides Intrepida. 
Pastor Angelicus. 
Pastor et Nauta. 
Flos Florum. 
De Medietate Lumae. 
De Lahore Solis. 

* * * Gloria Olivae. 



* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


.* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 



LA CITTA ETERNA 199 

In Persecuzione extrema sacrae Romanae ecclesiae 

sedebit Petrus Romanus, 
Qui pascet suis (? oues) in multis tribulationibus 

quibus trasactis civitas 
Septicollis diruetur et index tremendus iudicabit 

popmlum. 

Taking the average of the Popes' reigns in modern 
days, the eight future Popes would come to an end 
about the middle of the first half of the twenty-first 
century, which would once more exemplify the fact 
that religious sovereignties are the most lasting of all. 

The accession of King Humbert to the throne of 
Italy gave rise to no changes in the first instance. 
Though the young King had not the imposing physique 
of his father or the same vitality and energy, he had 
many qualities which endeared him to those who 
knew him well. At dinners and suppers or balls, 
where he never danced, not even as Crown Prince, I 
often had long conversations with him, and the straight- 
ness and simplicity of his character inspired me with 
respect, whilst his affectionate nature won all my 
sympathies. Shy and distant in manner, his sterling 
qualities were not at once appreciated, and it was 
only later that his sense of duty, and almost too great 
conscientiousness, won for him a popularity which 
at first was all the Queen's. The King had the 
physical courage of the House of Savoy, and he was 
a faithful and generous friend. In religion tolerant, 
he was outwardly correct, though personally probably 



200 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

an agnostic. Eminently reasonable, and by nature 
unambitious, he discharged his duties as a constitu- 
tional Sovereign without taking much, or I might say, 
any, pleasure or pride in his kingly position. His 
longing for a quiet, unobtrusive life was pathetic, and 
he often said to me : ' Je suis profondement triste ' ; 
and then added, half in fun, ' J'aurais ete un excellent 
sergent de ville, c'eut ete ma vocation ! ' 

He too, like his father, clung to Piedmontese 
traditions and surrounded himself with a Piedmontese 
Court. I remember his once asking one of Queen 
Margherita's Roman ladies, who was talking to some 
friends : ' What are you doing there ? ' and she answered : 
' Speaking Italian, Sir ' ; for the King and Queen 
always spoke in dialect to their immediate entourage. 
King Humbert's charming consort was in many things 
her husband's opposite. She loved splendour and 
was born to be a Queen. She liked it, and attracted 
about herself all the glamour which ought to be a 
Queen's patrimony. Always gorgeously attired at 
all festivities, covered with precious laces and priceless 
jewels, she used, on entering or leaving a room, to 
sweep a long and gracious curtsy in a semicircle, 
including everybody, such as we are told Marie 
Antoinette had the art of making. Indeed, Queen 
Margaret was in many ways not unlike the martyred 
Queen of France ; for from her Austrian ancestors she 
inherited the same full underhp, the bright blue eyes, 
the fair complexion, and the wealth of shining blonde 



LA CITTA ETERNA 201 

hair. She is a woman of many parts, speaks four or 
five languages in perfection, is very musical, highly 
cultured, and well read. Her charities are proverbial, 
and now, after bitter trials and living long in partial 
seclusion, she still holds the popular imagination ; and 
the day her much-beloved figure and beneficent 
influence are seen and felt no more will be a sad one 
for Italy. 

A few months after King Humbert's accession a 
man named Passanante made an attempt on his life 
at Naples. It was when he was driving through the 
streets with the Queen. When shortly afterwards 
the Royal couple made a solemn entry into Rome, 
the streets were packed, and they had a great ovation. 
They drove at a foot's pace almost from the station 
to the Quirinal; they were in an open carriage with 
the little Prince, and the mob swaying and screaming 
all around them, with no attempt to keep it in bounds. 
Only a number of police in plain clothes were hanging 
on to the carriage and were mistaken, by many, as 
part of the mob. The King held his hat, as was his 
habit when acknowledging a salute, almost at arm's 
length from his head ; the Queen showed no symptoms 
of fear and bowed with gracious smile on every side, 
but I think the fact of her disguising her apprehensions, 
following upon the shock which the attempt must 
have given her, caused the nervous illness from which 
she suffered for several years, and from which it took 
her so long to recover. 



202 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

The little Prince of Naples was a most engaging 
child. Intelligent and bright to a degree, he spoke 
English perfectly, and told me how, when he went to 
England, the thing that interested him most was his 
visit to Woolwich, about which he gave me details 
far beyond my comprehension. One day I happened 
to mention before him that a Miss Fox had come to 
see me. ' What ! ' he said, in his quick way, ' anything 
to do with the Prime Minister ? ' He was very quick 
and sharp at repartee, and when his English narse 
complained that her colds were so terrible that she 
had to use towels instead of handkerchiefs, ' Why 
don't you say sheets at once, it would be nearer the 
truth ? ' mocked her royal charge of eight. 

Even at that age his principles were clearly formu- 
lated and unbending, and it was only with the greatest 
trouble that he was persuaded to shake hands with 
one of the Ambassadors whose country was at war 
with another country for which he had conceived a 
sympathy. 

He is now a most exemplary and conscientious 
Sovereign, but what scope is there for a constitutional 
King in a democratic country in which he and his 
Government have often to conciliate millions of utterly 
uneducated electors, who frequently decree their own 
misfortunes ? Still, the Italian has one great safe- 
guard, and that is — a pleasure and a pride in his own 
country. We see it now in their present Tripolitan 
war. The menace of Socialism was imminent, but 



LA CITTA ETERNA 203 

all quarrels and ill-will between the different parties 
and factions are sunk in the overwhelming feeling of 
patriotism. It is the same feeling which has made them 
pay their heavy taxes for so long without a murmur, 
which makes them bear the expenses of their army 
and navy cheerfully, and which, poor as the nation is, 
allows their King a Civil List far more generous than 
any of our Sovereigns ever had. 

The other members of the Royal family hardly 
ever appeared in Rome. They were scattered about 
at Turin, Florence, and Naples. The Roman Court 
was an eminently young one. All the gentlemen and 
ladies in attendance on the Sovereigns were young, 
some of the women very beautiful. It was rather 
like a brilliant picture without a background ; which 
was natural, as it was all the growth of a few years. 

Roman society was like a tidal river flowing back- 
wards and forwards, for every winter brought back 
well-known faces, and yet there were every day new 
additions, and this it was which gave it so much un- 
rest and instability, for people were all the time on 
the alert as to ' Who is that ? ' and ' Who is coming ? ' 
and they had adopted the English fashion of con- 
tinually moving about at parties and never sitting 
down. 

The enormous influx of strangers from all countries 
increased from year to year, more and more engulfing 
the Roman element, and it was this ever-moving, 
ever-changing, and elusive atmosphere which makes 



204 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

it so impossible to describe the Rome of that day. 
The society was composed of Romans proper, and, 
quite distinct from them, the other Itahans, brought 
to the Capital by their avocations, such as the 
Government, the Senators and deputies, and the 
army ; though the military element, except at balls, 
was conspicuous by its absence. Then there were the 
two sets of diplomats, artists, scientists, writers, and 
the masses of foreigners. 

Owing probably to the very enthusiastic and also 
practical sympathy which England had ever shown to 
the cause of United Italy, our house was, in Rome as 
it had been in Florence, a gathering place for many 
of the men who played a conspicuous part in the 
Risorgimento of their country. They have all 
vanished except one or two. They were a short-lived 
generation. Cavour and the King were the first to 
go. Those we saw most of were Minghetti, Ouintino 
Sella, la Marmora, Ubaldino Peruzzi, Ricasoli, Bonghi, 
Massari, Visconti Venosta, Count Corti, Guerrieri 
Gonzaga, Giovanni Baracco, Lacaita, and many others 
who had tasted the bitter bread of exile. I often 
wonder whether any of them foresaw the troubles 
which prosperity was to bring to the countrj^ they 
loved so well. 

One of our intimates was Mario, thirty years before 
the idol of London. He was very poor, having dissi- 
pated the enormous sums which his and Grisi's divine 
voices had brought them. Mario was, on and off the 



LA CITTA ETERNA 205 

stage, always the great gentleman. With snow-white 
hair and beard and the complexion of a girl of sixteen, 
he also retained the fire of his dark eyes. His dress 
was superlatively neat and fresh-looking, and even 
when he dined with us quite alone he wore white 
waistcoat and gloves, things unknown to his country- 
men of that day. He was a hermit ; and the only other 
house he visited was that of his kind and devoted 
friend Prince Ladis Odescalchi, who once persuaded 
the great singer to come to one of our balls, and it 
was delightful to see how his friends of ancient days 
crowded around him, and the greatest lady in the 
land called to him gaily with threatening finger : ' Ah ! 
I have to come to the English Embassy to find you ! ' 
Giovanni Costa, so much admired in English art- 
circles as the greatest painter of that day, but in his 
native country only appreciated as a patriot, was 
another hermit who often darkened our doors, and I 
blush to say that he lost many hours, when not approv- 
ing of something I had painted, rubbing it over with 
soft soap and holding it for half an hour under a tap 
until the texture which he so much liked was obtained. 
He used to treat his own pictures in that way — a fact 
which may interest those who possess some of his 
treasures. Lenbach, the great Bavarian painter, was 
also much in our house. He was very generous to me 
in giving away what he called his tricks in painting. 
He retained much of his peasant origin in his rough- 
and-ready speech. He told me how, when he was young, 



2o6 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

he used to wander about on foot and paint portraits 
for six or seven shillings. One day in his studio, in 
which were assembled the portraits of most of the 
famous men of that day, he pointed to that of Mr. 
Gladstone, a splendid likeness, saying : ' 1st er nicht 
wie ein fanatischer Bauer ? ' This remark became 
very interesting to me when, many years later, I heard 
of the contention of Theosophists that Mr. Gladstone 
was a reincarnation of Jack Cade. 

Mr. W. W. Story's studio was at the end of our 
garden, and I often sat with him whilst he was working. 
As a man he was even more interesting than as an 
artist, for he was full of information, fun, and original 
thought, with a very kindly disposition. He was a 
delightful and witty companion, and I often think of 
the summer evenings when he accompanied me to 
the Correa, the open-air theatre in the tumulus of 
Augustus, where, when the bells of the neighbouring 
churches began to ring, the actors had to leave off 
speaking ; and when a summer shower came on, all 
the audience, which sat on chairs on the gravel, rushed 
into a semicircle of booths at the back, which did 
duty for boxes. 

One hot afternoon in May, I went with Mr. Story 
to the celebration of Metastasio's centenary in the 
gardens of the Arcadia. This is a literary society 
dating from the Renaissance, which still exists. On 
a small stage in the open air men and women, boys 
and girls, recited poetrj^ Around them in a semi- 



LA CITTA ETERNA 207 

circle were seated many Cardinals and Roman Princes 
and great ladies of the Papal camp. A little farther 
back were those that belonged to the Arcadia, with 
their friends and relations. 

Above the trees of the garden rose the cupola of 
San Pietro in Montorio, the roofs of the Spanish 
Academy, and in the background the Acqua Paula. 
Below lay extended the whole of Rome — mellow, 
brown, and mysterious in the waning sunlight. Beyond, 
a strip of the Campagna vanishing in the vapour 
which bathed the base of the Sabine and Latin hills. 

I had unusual opportunities of knowing many 
artists and scientists, as they did me the honour of 
electing me a member of the ' Insigne Accademia of 
San Luca,' the oldest academy of the world, I believe. 
Only one other lady belonged to it, the learned Countess 
Ersilia Lovatelli, daughter of the artistic and scientific 
blind Duke of Sermoneta, the cleverest and most 
cultured man in Roman society. The sittings of the 
Academy were most solemn and dignified, and it was 
difficult to remember that one was in the nineteenth 
century. 

Another typical Roman scene lingers in my mind. 
One day my old and valued friend Princess Corsini 
Scotti came to see me. I was her only link with the 
white society of Rome, for she was ultra-black, had 
frequent audiences with the Holy Father, and received 
chiefly Cardinals. She came to ask me whether I 
would come to her matinee, the first one she had 



2o8 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

given since her husband's death. ' Only,' she begged, 
' could you come as your own private self and not as 
English Ambassadress ? and please bring your daughter.' 
I readily agreed, and on the appointed day, escorted 
by the Duke of Ripalda, also a most pronounced 
Papalino, and, as possessor of the Farnesina Palace, 
Princess Corsini's nearest neighbour, we mounted the 
wide stairs leading to the splendid apartment on 
the first floor of the palace. 

On the first row of arm-chairs, disposed in a semi- 
circle, sat the Cardinals, and behind them on chairs 
the black society of Rome. Against the wall stood 
a kind of altar raised upon a dais, and upon it burned 
Wax tapers in tall candlesticks, though it was the 
middle of the day. The Cardinals and the bright 
spring toilettes of the ladies made a rich harmony 
against the splendid gold and velvet hangings 
of the palatial room. We came purposely late, 
so as not to embarrass our kind hostess while she 
was receiving ; but if a bomb had burst in the middle 
of the room the consternation could hardly have 
been greater, for a good many of those who 
were present knew me by sight, and some of 
them to speak to. We sat down very quietly, and 
the Duke of Ripalda stood near us. The recitals 
began, all of them by pupils of Seminaries. They 
were eulogies of different Popes in verse. There was 
a good deal about heretics in them, but we did 
not take this to ourselves. One phrase, however. 



LA CITTA ETERNA 209 

proved too much for my daughter's youthful gravity ; 
it was piped out in a high treble by a little fellow nine 
years old : — 

II nostro buon Papa, il sesto Alessandro, 

and then followed a panegyric of the Borgias. The 
whole thing had a wonderful cachet ; it was like one 
of the receptions the President de Brosses describes 
in his lively diaries. Then followed a collation set 
out as they were in the time of Louis XIV ; but 
we went away, fearing that our remaining might 
make difficulties for the old Princess. 

Soon after this we left Rome. It was a sad leave- 
taking, for the charm and glamour of the sunny skies, 
the atmosphere of art and intellect, had cast a powerful 
fascination over me. I thought that life in the North 
would appear grey and dull, and I remembered the 
words Lord Lytton had said to me many years ago : 
* When you have once lived in Italy it takes the colour 
out of everything else.' 

When I saw the crowd of friends who had come to 
see us off, words failed me, and it was with tears only 
that I could bid adieu to the ' Citta Eterna.' 



CHAPTER IX 

VANISHING VIENNA: A RETROSPECT 

These notes, made some fifteen years ago, have 
hardly more than a historical interest now, for Viennese 
society has since then undergone great changes. The 
ensnaring old-world aroma, elusive and intangible 
though it was, is now barely more than a memory, 
and I dare say the generation which has replaced the 
one I knew will declare that my account in many 
ways is incorrect. This, however, is not the 
case, as those who knew Vienna in the eighties 
can aver, and these notes were made soon after 
my departure from that city, when my impressions 
were quite vivid, and the sorrow at the parting from 
so many loved friends still fresh. I will, therefore, 
give them as they were made, without any changes, 
as I fear to trust the correctness of my memor}^ after 
a lapse of fifteen years. 

It is not possible, I think, to give a just and adequate 
idea of Viennese society without showing out of 
what roots it sprung, and this I propose to do in 
a few words. When Francis I renounced in 1806 



VANISHING VIENNA 211 

the title of Emperor of the Holy Roman Empn-e, 
and assumed the one of Emperor of Austria, he severed 
himself completely from German interests, and many 
of the highest German aristocracy who had hitherto 
flocked to Vienna withdrew to their respective 
countries, leaving only a small nucleus of society, 
formed of the richest and most powerful families 
belonging to the different parts of the Austrian 
Empire. The diaries of Frederic Gentz, the well- 
known and celebrated diplomatic agent, give a very 
good idea of this transformation. This society was 
composed of some families belonging to Austria 
proper, a fair proportion of great Bohemian names, 
a few Hungarians, and a sprinkling of Poles. They 
all had splendid palaces in Vienna, and some of these 
families live in them unto this day. The principal 
and ever-recurring names in Gentz's diaries are Liech- 
tenstein, Auersperg, Dietrichstein, Harrach, Metter- 
nich, Esterhazy, Schonborn, Rasomoffsky, Pallavicini, 
Palffy, &c. Such was the composition of society at 
the time of the Congress in 1815, and it is not very 
much changed now. Vienna had, through the best 
part of the nineteenth century, the reputation of being 
the gayest capital of Europe. Relieved from the strain 
and agitation of Napoleonic days, the Austrian aristo- 
cracy gave itself up with its natural insouciance to 
its love of sport, pleasure, and display, living a life 
of continual social intercourse, whiling time away in 

its own gemiithlich fashion, and never caring what 

p 2 



212 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

the future miglit have in store of good or evil. Vienna 
was always pre-eminent for the facilities it affords of 
spending money, and together with Paris it set for 
the Continent the fashions in dress, furniture, and 
carriages. Many foreigners of high degree came there, 
and were always received with cordial hospitality 
whatever the season of the year might be ; for, until 
the existence of railways, many of the great families 
lived in their villas and country-houses close to the 
town, or even in the suburbs or in summer resorts on 
the green and smiling slopes of the ' Wiener Wald,' 
a chain of wooded hills which encircles Vienna on the 
south and west. The waters of Carlsbad, so fashionable 
up to the beginning of the sixties, were a favourite 
meeting-place for aristocratic Europe. Princes, states- 
men, and diplomats went there, and many members 
of great iVustrian famihes, also some of the bankers 
and rich merchants came from the capital ; but 
these latter formed a completely different society, for 
then, as now, the hne was clearly and firmly drawn, 
and when Viennese society is spoken of, it m.ust be 
understood that it means the score or two of noble 
families, some of which have been mentioned, and that 
no exception is made to this rule. 

A second society does exist ; it is wealthy and 
very fashionable, and said to be amusing, and some 
of the young men belonging to the first society frequent 
it. It consists of bankers, artists, merchants, archi- 
tects, engineers, actors, employes, and officers, with 



VANISHING VIENNA 213 

their families. The only occasions on which the two 
societies meet are the great public charity balls ; but 
even then they have hardly any intercourse. 

The predecessor of the Emperor Francis Joseph 
was the Emperor Ferdinand — a Prince of weak 
intellect, during whose reign a regular and unvaried 
routine had been maintained at Court. The year 
was portioned out between Vienna, Schonbrunn, and 
Laxenburg, the three Imperial palaces, all of them only 
a few miles distant from each other. All the Arch- 
dukes followed this example, spending their winters 
in old-fashioned stateliness in Vienna, and the summers 
in the extremest simplicity in their country-houses. 
This curious combination is very distinctive of Austrian 
life, even to this day. When the young Emperor 
at the age of eighteen came to the throne, through an 
understanding between his mother and his aunt the 
Empress, his eyes opened on troubled waters, for it 
was in the midst of the Hungarian revolution ; but he 
was full of hope and courage, and to youth everything 
seems possible. His chivalrous mxanners, his kindness 
and great charm, won every heart ; and under his 
impulse the troubles were soon forgotten, and Vienna 
became gayer than ever. The Emperor loved dancing 
and acquitted himself of it with supreme grace and 
elegance. Through many cold winter nights the 
windows of the old ' Burg ' shone with a thousand 
candles, and the strains of the graceful trois-temps 
and mazurkas filtered out into the frozen air, and the 



214 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

faithful Viennese rejoiced at the thought that their 
young Emperor was enjoying himself. 

In 1854, six years after his accession, the Emperor 
married the Duchess Elizabeth in Bavaria, his first 
cousin. The slight pale girl, barely seventeen, with the 
marvellous crown of chestnut hair, did not then give the 
promise of the incomparable loveliness which dazzled 
Europe for so many years. She had been brought up 
with Spartan simplicity amongst the mountains and 
the woods of her native country, and she came with 
diffidence to take the place of the first lady of a society 
which was known to be the proudest and the most 
exclusive of the whole world. It has been said that 
the great ladies of that day discovered a flaw in the 
pedigree of the young Princess, and, conceiving them- 
selves to be better born than her, made her feel it. 
This circumstance, many think, accounts for the dislike 
the Empress has always shown for Vienna and its 
society. The political events of the Emperor Francis 
Joseph's reign are too well known to require repetition ; 
but it is not to be wondered at that a Sovereign who 
ascended his throne during the terrible Hungarian 
episode — who, ten years later, was compelled to sign 
the disastrous Peace of Villafranca ; v/ho, in 1866, 
ended a seven days' war with Sadowa and the cession 
of Venice, and the year after was doomed to see his 
brother Maximilian perish in the most tragic and 
humiliating way, and for whom the utmost limits 
of grief and shame were reached in the mysterious, 



VANISHING VIENNA 215 

incomprehensible, and shocking death of his only 
son — should bear upon his brow the impress of these 
storms. (When these lines were written, the cruel, 
wanton assassination of the Empress had not yet been 
committed ; nor could in these pages allusion be made 
to the many minor family misfortunes which have 
at times befallen one of the best of men and most 
conscientious of monarchs.) The lines about the 
Emperor's forehead and mouth are very sad, but 
courage and, above all, resignation look out of his blue 
eyes, and now and then, when talking to his children 
and grandchildren, flashes of gaiety light them up. 
The highest and the most rigorous sense of duty 
is the mainspring of the Emperor's character. At 
his writing-table every morning by five o'clock, he 
dispatches all his business himself, and when the 
press of work is very great his meals are brought 
in to him on a tray, and eaten in a perfunctory fashion. 
I have heard it said that at times the food is not very 
good ; but the Emperor, instead of scolding, simply 
remarks to his A.D.C. : ' You are a lucky man ; you 
can go to the club and get another dinner.' 

After the Crown Prince Rudolph's death, the 
Empress, who until then had made short appearances 
at the Court balls, and also assisted at a few dinners 
given at the ' Burg,' retired altogether from the world, 
and the Emperor had alone to bear the brunt of these 
receptions. He did so from the first with unflinching 
courage, his slight, straight figure as erect as ever, and 



2i6 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

addressing all those present with his usual courtesy 
and bonhomie. The Empress, whose transcendent 
beauty and great love of solitude have made her such 
an object of romantic curiosity to all strangers who 
visit Vienna, used for many years to give herself up 
entirely to riding and hunting. So fond was she of 
this latter pastime, that it was reported that a visit 
to Ireland was the promise held out to her if she would 
consent to assist at the Court festivities given in 
honour of some foreign Sovereign. Later on, when 
she lost her nerve, she carried on fencing with the 
same keenness, and at last it was mountaineering which 
claimed her energies. She could walk from sunrise to 
sundown over the Styrian Alps, refreshing herself only 
with a glass of milk and sleeping on the fragrant hay 
in the loft of a mountain hut. The Hungarians were 
always the preferred of the Empress ; she learnt to speak 
their language, and resided much at Budapest, where, 
after Count Beust had created the dual system, nearly 
all the rich and brilliant Magyars had withdrawn. 
This naturally dealt a great blow to Viennese society, 
for many of the Bohemian nobles followed suit and 
went to live at Prague, loudly declaring that their 
country also ought to be recognised as a separate 
monarchy. 

Viennese society therefore now consists mainly of 
families belonging to the German provinces and a very 
few from the other parts of the Empire w^ho have 
remained attached to the old order. Its numbers 



VANISHING VIENNA 217 

fluctuate from two to three hundred. This does not 
include the diplomatic corps or many high officials, 
civil and military, who, though bidden to Court 
festivities, never appear at the smaller social 
reunions at private houses. 

Every winter during the carnival, two Court balls 
are given. The first one, which is styled ' ball by 
Hof,' includes from 1500 to 2000 persons. No 
invitations are issued for it ; a simple announcement 
that the ball will take place is sent to all those who 
are entitled to go to Court- The second ball is called 
' Hof ball,' and to it only the elite of society and the 
corps diplomatique are convened by a formal invita- 
tion. It ends with a supper at small tables, at each 
of which a member of the Imperial family presides, 
the ladies of highest rank being told off to the Emperor's 
table, the corresponding gentlemen to that of the 
Empress or the Archduchess who represented her. 
These small Court balls were very brilliant indeed, 
but quite informal, and no cercle preceded them. 
The young ladies {Contessen) were generally there in 
good time, standing in a compact phalanx in front of 
their mothers, seated on the benches to the right of 
the throne. Contess is the term by which any young 
lady of rank is designated at Vienna, be she a Princess 
or a Countess. On these occasions they were all 
dressed more or less alike, in very fresh and well-fitting 
tulle dresses, with little plash capes identical in shape, 
but differing in colour. Around them, walking or 



2i8 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

standing, were the dancing-men, all of them officers, 
with a card and pencil in hand making up their books. 
Involuntarily one was reminded of a saddhng-paddock. 
When the ' fanfare ' announced the approach of the 
Court, the capes all flew off like a flash of lightning, 
and were stuffed away under the sofas, on the knees 
of the mammas — anywhere in fact — all the Contessen 
faced round in a row and stood ready for the race, 
which began at once with a spirited waltz. 

These balls were given in the large room added 
on to the Burg for the Congress of 1815. The walls 
are of white stucco, and a row of fine yellow scagliola 
columns runs right around the room. The space 
between the walls and the columns is filled with 
hundreds of blossoming shrubs, and though the room 
is not beautiful, it looked very brilliant with its many 
crystal chandeliers, studded with hundreds of wax 
candles, and the assemblage I saw before me justified 
its reputation of being the most aristocratic society 
in Europe. They certainly all looked gentlemen 
and ladies, with a great air and good manners, and 
they moved and stood naturally and with grace. The 
ladies were covered with fine family jewels in old 
settings, to which the well -developed expanse of their 
persons afforded ample room. The men were in 
uniform, and those in Hungarian costume looked 
particularly well, and outvied their wives in the 
gorgeousness and size of the precious stones they 
wore. The Empress took her seat on a raised sofa, 



VANISHING VIENNA 219 

the Austrian ladies sitting on the benches on one side 
of her, and on the other side were the Archduchesses, 
Ambassadresses, and any foreign Princess who might 
happen to be at Vienna. About ten o'clock tea was 
taken by the Empress at a large round table to which 
a dozen ladies were convened, and on the return from 
this we found the cotillon had already begun. It is 
danced standing, and lasts two hours. The Contessen 
never show the slightest sign of fatigue. The figures 
of the cotillon were the prettiest and the best executed 
I have ever seen, and they were danced with the 
precision of a military manoeuvre. A score of Contessen 
tear to the other end of the room like a charge of cavalry, 
and then get back to their places through the most 
intricate mazes in the nick of time, without ever 
making a mistake. Strauss's band played with the 
greatest spirit and entrain, whilst the patient and 
exemplary mothers on the benches never took their 
eyes off their sprightly daughters. These balls begin 
precisely at eight o'clock and end at midnight. 

Viennese society is almost one vast family, and 
there are few belonging to it who are not related to 
nearly all the others. Putting official rank on one 
side, their respective positions would come in this 
order : The Liechtensteins, being a still reigning 
family, come first. After them the mediatised Princes, 
i.e. those who at one time exercised sovereign rights 
directly under the Holy Roman Empire. These have 
the pri\nlege of intermarr3dng with Royal houses on 



220 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

an equal footing. Thus the daughter of the Duke 
of Croy has become an Archduchess. The next in 
rank are the Austrian Princes created after 1806. Then 
there are mediatised counts and also counts of the 
Holy Roman Empire. The title* of baron is almost 
unknown in this society ; it is reserved for the haute 
finance, and is considered specially Semitic. 

In order to be received at Court it does not suffice 
to belong to a noble family, it is absolutely necessary 
to have irreproachable quarterings. The most curious 
complications sometimes ensae. A young lady who 
had always gone to Court, as she belonged to one of 

the best families, married Count R , who, though 

belonging to the aristocracy, was not ho-ffdhig — that 
is, he could not go to Court, his mother not having 
been of noble birth, and his wife had to share his fate. 

A few years after their marriage, Count R accepted 

some official position, and received from the Emperor 
what is termed a Handhillet — a letter making him 
hoffdhig, allowing him to go to Court. His wife, 
who had the right by her birth, was not, however, 
permitted to accompany him. These Imperial Hand- 
billets, caUed so because they are written by the 
Emperor himself, sometimes grant the right to go to 
Court for life, but often only during official tenure. 
Many of the ministers and high functionaries spring 
from the middle class, and though they go to Court 
they never mix otherwise in society. The one brilliant 
exception to this rule is that of the late Count Hiibner, 



VANISHING VIENNA 221 

once Ambassador in Paris during the second Empire, 
and later on to the Vatican, who, though being of 
humble birth, managed, with the protection of Prince 
Metternich and infinite patience, tact, and good 
fortune, to penetrate into the inmost circles. 

It is natural that, in a society thus composed, mere 
wealth counts for nothing, and that the introduction 
of new elements on this basis would be quite impossible. 
Daughters of great houses, however numerous, plain, 
or poor the}'' may be, never dream of marrying out- 
side their order to secure a rich husband. Even if 
the}^ had the wish to do so, the opportunity would be 
lacking, as they only meet the men belonging to their 
set. In some very rare cases the younger sons of im- 
poverished families have been constrained by debt and 
extravagance to seek salvation in a money marriage ; 
but then they retire into the country or live abroad, 
as their wives would not be received. Nearly all the 
great families who compose Viennese society have 
large means to keep up a good style of living. Those 
who cannot keep pace with the others retire to the 
country. Thus a few years ago the head of one 
princely house was completely ruined by racing, 
betting, and gambhng, and he, together with his wife 
and children, left their fine town palace and retired 
to their chateau in the country, never to be heard of 
or seen again. Gambling and betting are a great 
scourge in Viennese society, and nearlj^ all the young 
men get hit hard at one time or another. The 



222 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Emperor has been most desirous of stopping it ; but in 
vain, for this passion is deeply ingrained in the blood 
of the Teutonic race. I am told the gambling in 
Austria and Germany is much higher than in any other 
country. It is, however, only fair to say that, when- 
ever the crash comes, all the friends and relations rush 
to the rescue to help to the best of their ability. The 
feeling of solidarity is very great. 

Vienna is probably the most expensive capital 
in Europe for people of high rank, as you pay there 
according to position. Nobody belonging to society, 
however badly off, could think of going in anything 
but a two-horse fiacre, the shortest fare being a florin. 
Most men, whether married or single, keep a fiacre (a 
matter of three or four hundred a year), irrespective 
of their own stables. Many ladies use fiacres in the 
evening to save their horses from standing in the 
bitter cold winds and blinding sleet of a Viennese 
winter's night. Most new-comers who enter a Viennese 
drawing-room would probably be struck by the extreme 
simplicity in the dress of the ladies, and it would not 
occur to them that, to secure these garments, prices 
are paid in excess of anything in Paris or London. 
These clothes are remarkable for their extraordinary 
good fit and their exceeding freshness. The girls 
especially always look as if they had come out of 
bandboxes, and as if their dresses had grown upon 
them. 

Large dinner-parties are confined to the diplomatic 



VANISHING VIENNA 223 

and official circles, but the Austrians dine out a good 
deal amongst themselves in a quiet, unostentatious 
way. At some houses a large circle of relations flocks 
in almost daily, without any particular invitation. 
The way of living is eminently patriarchal ; the large 
retinue of servants, badly paid, but well cared for, 
generally all come from their masters' estates. 

After all dinner-parties, even the great official 
ones, everybody, ladies included, retires to the smoking- 
room. One's aesthetic sense is rather shocked, by 
seeing a beautiful young woman, with bare shoulders 
and blazing tiara, lighting a big cigar over a lamp. 
The first thing a man does when he gets engaged is 
to request leave from his future mother-in-law for 
his fiancee to smoke. Many girls, however, do not 
wait for this moment, and anticipate ; and there are 
evening parties of nothing but Contessen, where the 
fumes of havanas have been seen hovering in the air. 
Until quite lately the usual dinner hours were from 
four to six o'clock, this latter being quite the latest 
and most fashionable time, for everybody had boxes 
at the Burg and the Opera, and these begin at seven 
and have to be over by ten, as that is the charmed 
moment at which all who do not live in a house of 
their own have to be back, unless they wish to be 
mulcted of the sum of ten kreutzers. Every porter 
closes his door punctually at ten, and the ten kreutzers 
are his perquisite. When, some years ago, the question 
was mooted of putting back the closing time to eleven 



224 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

o'clock, there was a revolt amongst the porters, and 
the authorities had to give in. 

In spite of the pleasure-loving reputation of the 
Viennese, there are few theatres, and it is only the 
large subsidies the Emperor gives to the Burg Theatre 
and the Opera which makes it possible for them to 
exist. A new ballet or an opera of Wagner's always 
commands a full attendance, but at a classical play 
or an opera of Gluck's or Mozart's the house is nearly 
empty, though the acting and singing are first-rate. 
The most prominent actors of the Burg are Messrs. 
Levinsky and Sonnenthal, who to their own individual 
talent unite a thorough knowledge of the stage. At 
the opera such representations as Massenet's Manon 
with Vandyke and Mile. Renard in the principal 
parts can hardly be rivalled anj^where. The younger 
sporting generation do not, however, care for the 
theatre. They like dining late, and then meet in 
small sets and play bezique or less innocent games. 
The men go a good deal to the club, where their con- 
versation is entirely of racing and shooting. The 
Austrian shoots nearly all the year round, and all his 
faculties are devoted to this pursuit. He does not 
mind how much he roughs it or what weather he is 
exposed to. He is nearly always a good shot, and so 
are some of the ladies, who often accompany their 
husbands on their expeditions. Princess PauUne 
Metternich is a great proficient in this line. The 
chamois shooting begins in August, and is succeeded 



VANISHING VIENNA 225 

by stag and roe-deer, partridge and pheasant, with 
ground game, all through the autumn and early winter. 
Then comes the bear and wild boar season, and in 
February, amongst mountains of snow, the arduous 
shooting of the hinds. When this is barely over the 
stalking of the capercailzies begins. In order to 
secure this wily bird at the moment at which he sings 
his lovesong to his mate at the break of day, whilst 
she is sitting on her nest, it is necessary to get up 
between one and two a.m., and to scramble for hours 
uphill in the dark. Many men do this for the six 
weeks during which the ' Balzing ' season lasts. They 
live in the most elementary log-huts, existing on the 
coarsest food, and return to their homes perfectly 
attenuated. 

The only time during which it is possible to count 
with any certainty on the presence of young men in 
Vienna is at the time of the races, which begin in April 
and go on with short intervals all through May till the 
end of June. This is the really brilliant time of the 
Vienna season, when the young sporting world comes 
to the capital for a short spell of amusement. Sport 
of every kind is what really hypnotises the Austrians, 
and they are also fond of games, but they are not 
nearly so adroit or athletic as the Enghsh. They are 
devoted to horses and dogs, and are good and judicious 
riders ; but the hunting which had been started 
at the Empress's instigation came to an end when 
the Emperor withdrew his support, and there is only 

9 



226 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

one private pack of harriers in the monarchy, and this 
belongs to Count Larisch Moennich. If an Austrian 
travels, which is a very rare occurrence, it is sure to 
be in order to shoot lions or tigers, but otherwise they 
are the most stay-at-home people of the whole world. 
The Austrian loves to be in the open air. The first 
thing that strikes the foreigner are the numbers of 
cafes in the Prater. They are crowded all the summer 
through. There the Viennese shopkeepers breakfast, 
dine, and sup, imbibing the most fabulous quantities 
of beer and cafe au lait, and smoking all the time 
whilst a band plays a waltz, a czardash, or a march. 

There is one aristocratic restaurant in the Prater 
which goes under the name of ' Constantin Huegel,' 
and as long as anybody in society is left it is much 
frequented in spite of the plague of mosquitoes that 
infests it. There is no other capital which becomes 
as thoroughly empty and deserted as Vienna does in 
the summer. Even the smallest tradesman goes with 
his family to the country, and the aspect of the broad 
two-mile-long Prater Avenue under a sweltering August 
sun, with the accompanying clouds of huge mos- 
quitoes, is the most desolate thing one can imagine. 
The climate of Vienna is neither healthy nor agreeable, 
and, for those who live there always, rather exhausting. 
Whether it be owing to this or the too frequent inter- 
marriages amongst the Austrian aristocracy or the 
very small circle of interests bred by the extreme 
exclusiveness in which they live, it must be conceded 



VANISHING VIENNA 227 

that charming, amiable, and kind though they be, 
Viennese society is pervaded by a great moral indolence 
and a want of energy and initiative. 

Politics, religion, literature, art, and science are 
hardly ever alluded to in general talk. The Viennese 
' Salon ' (annual exhibition) is far below that of Munich, 
both in number of pictures and excellence of merit. 
There are exquisite concerts, but none but the middle- 
class frequent them. Most Austrians are musical, 
but they do not cultivate their talent. Occasionally 
you hear a young man, after a small and intime dinner, 
strumming, among clouds of smoke, a waltz or galop 
on the piano. The ladies hardly ever play or sing, 
and seem to care less for music than the men. 

Referring to the constant intermarriages, there is 
no doubt that they often have most injurious effects, 
and they ought to be prohibited, especially those of 
uncles to their nieces, of which there are some examples. 
Somehow these marriages seem to be less deteriorating 
to the mind than to the physique, as some of the most 
intelligent, agreeable, and gifted couples of the Austrian 
nobility belong to historical families which have con- 
stantly intermarried for more than two hundred years. 
Love marriages are the only unions known at Vienna 
and admitted. The daughters of great families have 
small fortunes, for everything is entailed on the eldest 
son. Beauty, charm, and goodness are the only 
dower these young ladies bring their husbands. It 
sometimes happens that a young Austrian chooses a 

9 2 



228 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

bride in the German Empire or even a foreigner. If 
the young lady is well-born, well-bred, and simple, she 
is at once received with open arms. The one thing 
Viennese society most heartily detests are airs of affec- 
tation ; and if anybody is suspected of indulging in 
them it is hopeless for that person to think of getting 
on. In this peculiarity lies the whole secret of the 
popularity of some people. Diplomats often do not 
like Vienna. They have a difficult part to play, and, 
especially those who represent Republican Govern- 
ments, are looked upon with coldness and distrust. 

Exceptions to this rule are, however, every now 
and then made in favour of those endowed with good 
manners, distinguished appearance, and a modest, 
retiring behaviour. In a society so closely united by 
the bonds of relationship, where rank is so clearly 
defined, every member knows its own place, and there 
can be no unseemly struggling or pushing, as takes 
place too often in more mixed communities. Snobbish- 
ness is also a thing unknown ; for the reverence which 
Austrians have for good birth can hardly be designated 
as such. To them it is a law — nay, almost a rehgion — 
which if taken from them would make them feel as 
if they were landed on a quicksand. 

Another thing which makes it sometimes difficult 
for foreigners to get into Viennese society is the lan- 
guage, as German is now almost universally spoken, 
and the younger generation is not at all proficient in 
French. The ladies as a rule acquire a smattering of 



VANISHING VIENNA 229 

English from their promeneuses, a kind of daily 
governess, onty engaged to take the Contessen out 
walking. Things were very different fifty years ago, 
when Princess Lory Schwarzenberg was the queen of 
society. All conversation was then carried on in 
French. The ladies who do so now belong to a former 
generation, and the type was mainly represented by 
three sisters, daughters of a princely house who were 
a power in Vienna. The youngest of them, Countess 
Clam Gallas, held for many years, by dint of her grace, 
intelligence, and kindness, the sceptre laid down by 
Princess Lory. The salon of her eldest sister is 
accounted the most exclusive one of the capital. 
A score of habitues resort there every other evening, 
and this illustrious conclave has been nicknamed the 
* Olympus.' To be one of the elect implies that 
you are at least a demigod. Another clique goes by 
the name of the Cousinage, and is formed mainly by 
the members and relations of the powerful Liechten- 
stein family. If one of them dies the whole of society 
is paratysed for the time being, and to obviate this 
all mournings are shortened considerably. It does 
not, however, prevent their tears from flowing, for 
kindness of heart is the fundamental virtue of this 
society. It is quite enough for anybody to be in 
trouble that all their faults and shortcomings should 
be forgotten, and everybody flock around them with 
proffered help and sympathy. 

The one form of amusement dear to every Viennese 



230 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

heart is dancing. The young ladies think and talk of 
nothing else during the season, and everything is 
sacrificed to the amusement and wishes of the Con- 
tessen. They are quite the dominant party, though 
of late a few of the young married women have shown 
signs of revolt, for they not only come to town, but 
they actually have the hardihood to dance ! 

At every ball and party the Contessen have a 
room set apart for them, into which no married man 
or woman may penetrate. They go to this room the 
moment they arrive, and if it be a party they are not 
seen again until they leave. At balls the Contessen 
always move about in bands of six or seven, linking 
arms. They never sit about with men as other girls 
do, but the moment the music begins they stand up 
in rows, three or four deep, for the dancers to choose 
from. As the Contessen are very numerous, their 
partners are not allowed to take more than one turn 
with them, so as to give the less popular girls a chance. 
After every dance there is a stampede for refreshments, 
which stand about on different tables in nearly every 
room. At supper the young ladies develop appetites 
only to be compared to their endurance in the dance. 
Quite different is the fate of the devoted mother. If 
once she succeeds in capturing a chair in the ball-room, 
no blandishments of any kind, no hopes of whist or 
pangs of hunger, will ever move her again. She 
would rather die than miss seeing how many turns 
her Finm^ takes with Sepperl T , and how 



VANISHING VIENNA 231 

many more bouquets Fannerl S gets than 

Mimi L . 

The Contessen have an enchanting time of it 
before they marry. They dance, they ride, they 
smoke, they shoot, they go to races, they have ex- 
pensive hats and frocks, they eat as many sweetmeats 
as they hke every afternoon at Demmel's shop ; in 
fact, there is nothing that they wish for which is 
refused to them. They sometimes have the appearance 
of being very fast, but the moment they marry they 
become the best and the most devoted wives. Without 
a regret they follow their husbands into the country, 
and often only reappear again when they have a 
daughter to bring out. 

It strikes strangers as very curious that girls 
brought up in severely religious and strictly moral 
households should be allowed to go to every race for 
weeks together. Such, however, is the case. In fresh- 
est dresses of latest fashion the Contessen crowd 
together in the passages and on the steps of the 
grand stand or walk about in bevies in the enclosure. 

Society flocks to these races in great numbers. 
The weather is general^ fine in May, and the race- 
course, which lies between the greater and the lesser 
Danube, is a pretty one. Most of the men and some 
of the ladies bet very heavily. For those who wish 
to be moderate the totalisateur is an easy solution. 
Many of the great bankers and merchants go to these 
races, accompanied by their wives ; but there, as 



232 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

everywhere else, the separation from the society of 
which we treat here is absolute. The return from the 
races is one of the sights of Vienna. The long Prater 
Avenue is filled with carriages, three or four 
abreast, most of them horsed with very fast Hungarian 
yukkers, tearing and careering along as fast as they 
can lay legs to the ground. The coachmen hold the 
reins in two hands at arms' length, shouting, laughing, 
and splashed from head to foot, which is supposed to 
be the acme of chic. In the evening the racing set 
meets again at drums and dances, given at some hotel, 
but here young ladies are excluded. 

Though nearly every great family has its palace at 
Vienna, few of them entertain, but picnic balls are 
very much in the fashion. They are so popular 
because everybody can do as they like, and that is 
what suits the temper of Viennese society. The finest 
private balls are those of the Marquis PaUavicini, 
a rich Hungarian magnate, whose handsome wife, 
wreathed in priceless jewels, receives the Court and 
society in spacious and profusely gilt halls. The 
Harrach and Schonborn palaces are renowned for 
their beautiful and costly appointments, dating from 
the days of Maria Theresa, whose prosperous reign 
gave a great impulse to architecture, and there is little 
that is good in Vienna left of an earlier date. People 
who do not possess houses of their own live in fiats. 
As they never receive, it is difficult to penetrate into 
these apartments, unless you are a relation or an 



VANISHING VIENNA 233 

intimate friend. No casual visitor is ever admitted, 
which, I imagine, accounts a good deal for the strict 
morality of society. The excuse always given by the 
servant who opens the door, no matter at what hour 
of the day, is that the lady is at her toilet. The 
Ambassadresses, the Mistress of the Robes, and the 
wives of one or two high officials, have days ; but if 
anybody else presumes to take one they are considered 
forward. Amongst themselves the Viennese are in 
and out of each other's houses all day long. However 
occupied a married daughter may be, she is supposed 
to find time to visit her mother during the day. When- 
ever they meet, even at a dinner-party or a ball, the 
daughter respectfully kisses her mother's hand. This 
holds good in the case of aunts and nieces, and indeed 
nearly all the girls would kiss the hand of the lady 
to whose house they go, if she were a relation or an 
intimate friend of their mother. 

All the women, of all ages, address each other with 
' thou,' and for the men the rule is the same. In the 
army it is even made obligatory. A girl writing to an 
older woman would begin her letter thus : ' Honoured 
Princess — Mamma hopes thou wilt,' &c. If there is 
a shadow of relationship, men and women always 
use the ' thou ' in speaking to each other as well as 
Christian names. If a lady of a certain age and rank 
shakes hands with a man, he always kisses it as a sign 
of respect. Everybody is called and addressed by a 
diminutive or nickname which is utterly bewildering 



234 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

to a stranger, and the general topics of conversation 
being family affairs and purely local gossip, carried 
on in Viennese jargon, it is utterly incomprehensible 
to the uninitiated. 

The Austrians bring up their children at home. 
The sons have tutors till they go to the University or 
into the army. This latter profession, diplomacy, 
and internal administration are the only careers open 
to young men of good family. Abbes are not, as in 
France, tutors in families, and the clergy play no part 
in social life. Plxcept occasionally some cardinal of 
high degree at a dinner-part}/', no Church dignitary 
ever appears in society. The Austrian ladies are 
strictly religious and severe in the observance of Church 
rites. It would be impossible to give dinners on 
Fridays, as is done in Itdly, for all the women fast. 
The men, though less bound by forms, are extremely 
respectful in their attitude towards religion. This 
example is set by the Emperor, who at Easter, before 
the assembled Court, washes on his knees the feet of 
twelve old men, and at Corpus Domini walks bare- 
headed through the streets of Vienna accompanied by 
all the great dignitaries of the realm, and devoutly 
kneels before the many altars erected on the way. In 
former days the Empress and all her ladies joined in 
the procession, in full Court dress, with their diamonds 
glittering in their hair, and bare shoulders and arms ; 
and those who remember this say it was a sight worth 
seeing. 



VANISHING VIENNA 235 

A great deal is done in Vienna for the poor. There 
are many practical and widespread organisations, 
headed by all the great ladies. The number of charity 
balls during the carnival is something appalling. 
At these festivities the lady patronesses sit on a 
raised dais, and one or two of the Archdukes grace 
the entertainment. The dancing public consists 
entirely of the middle class. The prettiest ball of 
this kind is the artists' ball, which is always in fancy 
dress. The walls of the spacious rooms are every 
year decorated in a new way with great talent and 
skill. Sometimes they represent Alpine scenery, at 
others the bottom of the sea, a tropical region, or a 
medieval town. Painters, sculptors, musicians, poets, 
actors, architects, and engineers are to be seen there 
with their families in picturesque or comic disguises. 
The week after this ball has taken place a public sale 
of all the decorations, ornaments, furniture, &c., 
takes place, and often the things go for fabulous prices. 
They are all clever imitations of real objects, and are 
called in Viennese dialect gehnaas. 

Princess Metternich, a lady of extraordinary wit, 
prodigious energy and resource, sets every year some 
charitable scheme on foot when the spring approaches. 
Sometimes it is a fete in the Prater, sometimes an 
exhibition, or tableaux vivants. The proceeds go to 
the hospitals and the poor. 

The inclination to remain at their country seats 
gains ground very much with the Austrian nobility. 



236 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

In spite of this, few of them are good administrators, 
as their native indolence and easy-going disposition 
prevent them looking into their affairs. Sport fills 
up all their time. They are not great readers, nor do 
they take the slightest interest in what happens in 
the world at large. Even the affairs of the Empire 
sit very lightly on their consciousness. They live 
contented^ in the midst of their large family circle, 
in comfortable but unpretending affluence. Intimate 
friends are always welcome, but invitations are seldom 
extended to mere acquaintances, an exception being, 
however, made for those English who come to /Austria 
in search of sport which their own country does not 
offer. They are always most hospitably received. 
It is difficult for anybody who has not lived in it to 
imagine a society of this stamp, and those who only 
see the outside of it are apt to form a wrong estimate. 
The extraordinary exclusiveness of the Austrian 
aristocracy is not a matter of pride : it is one of habit. 
The people who compose the second society would 
not wish to enter the first, as they would not feel at 
home in it, and the rare artists and literary men who 
sometimes are asked to great houses are more bored 
than flattered by these attentions, as it obliges them 
to don evening clothes and tears them away from their 
beloved pipes and Pilsen beer. 

Prejudiced as many may be in these go-ahead 
times against a society so narrowly restricted, there 
is nobody who, once having passed the charmed 



VANISHING VIENNA 



237 



boundary, does not appreciate the lovable qualities 
of those that form it ; and whatever changes years 
may have wrought in its outward forms, the intrinsic 
qualities must remain, and they are most attaching, 
for they consist of kindness of heart, purity of life, 
frankness, and extreme simplicity. 



CHAPTER X 



BRIXEN AND HEALTH 



I MET the other day a friend whom I had not seen for 
a year or two. She had then looked out of tired eyes, 
her face was drawn, and her languid movements 
seemed more those of an aged invalid than of a woman 
on the right side of forty. 

I now saw before me a creature svelte and strong, 
who seemed to tread on air like a goddess. Her eyes 
had the fire of youth, and her shining hair framed a 
face like a rose. 

* What have you done ? ' I exclaimed. ' You don't 
look twenty ! ' 

* Oh, Brixen,' she said. 

' What is Brixen ? ' I asked. 

' The water and air cure, you know. Dr. Guggen- 
berg's ! His is by far the best, since Father Kneipp 
is dead.' 

I am interested in the regeneration of humanity, 

so I treasured this information, determining to go, if 

only for a few days, and judge for myself at my first 

leisure moment : not as a patient, for, having studied 

238 



BRIXEN AND HEALTH 239 

the philosophy of Hfe, I do not, thank God, require 
cures, but as an anxious and intelHgent amateur, with 
the hope of improving my knowledge of hygiene for 
the benefit of a world suffering through its own 
indolence, carelessness, stupidity, greed, or vanity. 

One morning early in January I tore myself away 
from my beautiful southern home, with its garden 
still full of roses and the violets beginning to peep out 
of sheltered nooks, to face the battlefield of an Italian 
railway station. The one I am alluding to is a most 
dangerous place, as blows are ireely dealt, right and 
left, while the more able-bodied passengers take the 
carriages by assault as the trains come in. They 
swarm up their sides like bees, and it is a real case of 
the survival of the fittest. The weaker vessels have 
to content themselves with departing standing up on 
their feet in the corridors of the cars. This time, 
however, after a few weeks' correspondence with the 
railway authorities and the help of some tall and open- 
handed young men, I secured a place in a cotipe and 
never emerged from it till midnight, when I stepped 
out on the frozen snow at the little station of Brixen. 
Long before mj^ arrival, I had noticed that the great 
mountains were swathed in spotless white down to 
their feet and that their frigid garments trailed over 
the whole valley ; also I saw the frost embroidering 
transparent flowerets on the windows of the com- 
partment. Paracelsus or Ennemoser or Reichenbach 
or another of the older occultists says that these ice 



240 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

flowerets are the spirits of the flower-seeds lying about 
the earth, which manifest themselves thus in the 
winter. The bright northern stars were twinkling 
overhead, and I was prepared for cold, yet as I left 
the overheated railway carriage, the almost soUd 
crystal atmosphere was a shock to me after the soft 
and mobile air of the South. I write as if I had been 
landed in Siberia, yet this was only a vaUey in the 
southern part of the Tyrol, miles below the Brenner 
Pass, and looked upon by North Germans and even 
Austrians as a mild winter resort. 

In a few minutes I arrived at the Wasser-heilan- 
stalt {anglice, hydropathic establishment), and was 
ushered from the snowy road almost directly into a 
simple but well-warmed room by a silent attendant, 
who whispered with finger on lips that no noise must 
be made, for the curfew had been rung three hours ago, 
as nine is the fated moment when every properly 
educated patient ought to be in bed. As I drew the 
sheets of roughish Kneipp linen over me, I listened to 
the splash and rush of the mountain stream which 
came through the open window and breathed the 
liquid crystal of the air in long delighted gasps. 

On the door of the large, bare, but scrupulously 
clean dining-room a notice is posted that after nine 
o'clock no breakfast can be served and that those who 
come late to meals must begin at the point at which 
the others have arrived. I was in ample time for 
breakfast, and as I gazed at these injunctions over 



BRIXEN AND HEALTH 241 

my cocoa and bread-and-butter (honey also being 
allowed), I reflected upon the profound wisdom and 
knowledge of human nature they displayed ; for, as 
many or most of the patients go to this water-cure for 
what they are pleased to term nerves, but which is 
generally only the result of their own misunderstood 
way of living, it is well to enforce two of the most 
important conditions for the health of the body and 
the soul — namely, early rising and punctuality. 

Somebody has said that the English were being 
left behind in the race of peoples because the whole 
nation rose an hour too late. I should almost feel 
inclined to make it two hours, instead of one ! 

Morgensiunde [morning hour] 

Hat Gold im Munde [has gold in its mouth] 

is a German and most true adage. Early risers alone 
know the delightful peace and vigour the first hours 
of the morning impart to work or exercise ; also to 
them is given the luxury of having time for every- 
thing. The true hygienist is persuaded that there is 
nothing so fatiguing as getting up late. As to having 
breakfast in bed, we will not mention it in the same 
breath with Brixen ! 

As far as punctuality is concerned (to which the 
placard on the door also alluded) there is no better 
remedy for nerve troubles than thinking of others — and 
is this not the essence of punctuality ? 

Though only an amateur, I thought a bit of a cure 



242 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

would be interesting ; I therefore sought out Dr. von 
Guggenberg, the head and director of the estabHshment. 
He is a man much beloved by his patients for his 
ready S3^mpathy, his almost unfailing diagnosis, and 
his cheerful upright and deeply religious character — no 
small factor in so many diseases in which body and 
soul are inextricably interlaced. It is much to be 
regretted from the hygienic point of view that the 
confidence which Dr. von Guggenberg inspires also 
in other respects has caused the Province of South 
Tyrol to elect him as their member into the Reichsrath, 
which forces him to make much lamented absences at 
Innspruck and Vienna. 

During our colloquy, the doctor told me that the 
most serious cases generally come to him in the depth 
of the winter, as then it appears the reaction is strongest. 
I cannot help thinking that the extreme purity of the 
almost always windless air at that season must also 
have a most beneficent effect. 

With a smile at my assertion that there was abso- 
lutely nothing the matter with me except rare and very 
transitory reminders of a fall I had had years ago, the 
doctor said he would write out a little treatment that 
would meet my case. Every patient is given a small 
book into which these treatments are inscribed for 
the whole week. Every patient's treatment differs 
from the other patients', and no two days the treatments 
are alike. Mine consisted in being wrapped, at six 
in the morning, into a sheet dipped into a decoction 



BRIXEN AND HEALTH 243 

of hay-seeds (cold of course), after which I remained 
an hour in bed. Then at half-past ten, after half an 
hour's very brisk walk, cold water was poured out of a 
common watering-can over my arms, beginning from my 
hands to the shoulder and down again. After this, 
another even quicker walk. During the afternoon, 
between two more walks, my feet and knees were treated 
in the same way. Some days I had large pine-needle 
baths, and after them cold water was dashed all over 
me. It is impossible to exaggerate the invigorating 
effect of these treatments and the perfectly delicious 
glow that follows. One afternoon I neglected my 
walk before the treatment, and I got no reaction and 
felt shivery for the rest of the day. 

The bath cabins are all open at the top and only 
separated by wooden partitions ; and while undergoing 
one's treatment one hears the shrieks and wails of 
the weak-minded and the self-indulgent under the 
cold jet and the voice of the active and intelligent 
bathing-woman commending the courageous ones, 
who bear the streams poured over them with befitting 
dignity. 

A favourite remedy for a cold is the so-called 

Spanish mantle. This ample garment is dipped into 

cold water, wrung out, and placed on the sufferer's 

bed. The shivering patient is laid upon it and tightly 

rolled up in it, from chin to toes, just like a mummy. 

Several blankets are now spread over the utterly 

helpless victim and energetically tucked in. Thus he 

R 2 



244 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

remains for an hour and a half, not able even to drive 
a fly away if it settles on his nose. When he is de- 
livered from his bonds he arises cured. Influenza and 
too ample proportions are treated in the same way. 

One is, of course, always dressing and undressing 
all day long, therefore the simplest garments are 
recommended, especially to those patients who have 
complicated sitz and electric baths with massage. 
Many are also made to saw wood and lie for hours on 
deck-chairs in the sun, with the snow all around them, 
in a large wooden shed called the Liegehalle. 

Such abominations of civiHsation as stays, tight 
shoes, high heels, and stiff collars have to be discarded 
at once, and are not replaced at all, or only in a very 
modified form. Thus sandals are all the fashion ; and 
I used to see a stately and dignified princess taking her 
morning walk in heelless sandals with only small caps 
to them to protect her stockingless feet; while a 
pretty young Polish girl, with nothing but a pair of 
leather soles held on by straps, bravely scattered the 
frozen snow with her bare pink toes. Nobody at 
Brixen would dream of taking any notice of such things, 
and it is this great simplicity of hfe which rests and re- 
juvenates exhausted constitutions, and makes those who 
have ruined them by absurd indulgences understand 
that there still exists such a thing as health in the 
world and that it is in the grasp of almost anybody. 

Perhaps the greatest trial for spoilt society 
beauties, who go there to regain their looks even more 



BRIXEN AND HEALTH 245 

than their health, is the wearing of the Kneipp hnen 
undergarments. This Hnen is of very open and rather 
coarse texture, and the friction it sets up produces a 
most wholesome action of the skin especially useful 
to those who have deteriorated and blocked it by 
warm baths or noxious unguents containing poisonous 
matter. 

As all those who appear at meals have every time 
to pass through the open air, this b}^ itself constitutes 
a hardening cure. At first I wrapped up my head 
and put on a cloak, but in a day or two I constantly 
neglected these precautions, as one gets so accustomed 
to the many changes that one hardly feels the bite of 
the dry and icy air. 

Quite half the patients, I was told, were so ill that 
they never appeared at all. At the end of our passage 
lived the Mother Superior of a convent of Sisters of 
Charity. She is renowned at Vienna for the great 
good she does in the hospitals. I used to hear the 
sweet-faced little nuns murmur prayers at frequent 
intervals ; and on Sundays and feast-days Mass was 
celebrated in their rooms, and a delicious and purifying 
odour of incense pervaded the passage and made me 
regret for the hundredth time that the burning of 
incense, instituted by wise pagans, at first I imagine 
solely as a hygienic measure, should be banished from 
our Protestant churches. 

This saintly lad}^ had arrived completely paralysed, 
but she was already much better, and was daily taken 



246 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

for quite long walks in her Bath chair. She was a large 
woman, with a gentle and serene face under her great 
white coif, and the bevy of five or six little nuns around 
her, with their winged headdresses, looked like a flight 
of white pigeons settling on the snow. There were 
invalids in such pain that they never showed, poor 
children with St. Vitus's dance who never left their 
beds ; but the little company assembled in the 
dining-room was always cheerful and gay. The ex- 
cellent breeding which generally distinguishes Austrians 
of all ranks asserts itself here. Each person on entering 
acknowledged those who were seated already by a bow 
and a smile, and if a new man appeared on the scene, 
he was formally presented to the rest of the company 
by the amiable and able young assistant physician 
who sat at the end of the table. This young doctor 
lives in the house and attends to the wants of the 
patients with inexhaustible patience and good humour. 
The cultured and interesting Prince and the kind 
and amiable Princess at the head of the table were not 
really patients. They pay a 3^early visit to Brixen to 
stave off, like sensible people, advancing years and all 
that hangs thereon. The Princess, like all great 
Austrian ladies, is very pious, and in spite of her cure 
she attended Mass in the town every morning at half- 
past six, and so did the shy and silent chanoinesse, 
though suffering from nervous exhaustion. The 
discipline the Roman Catholic Church enjoins is most 
admirable. 



BRIXEN AND HEALTH 247 

Then there was a witty and what schoolboys would 
call an extremely jolly Anglo-German lady, fluent in 
both her native tongues, who kept her neighbours in 
fits of laughter, and a very charming young one quite 
English, who with admirable pluck and patience was 
persevering in a cure of many months, keeping up all 
the time her fresh enthusiasm for her surroundings and 
loving the beauty of the little town and of the mountains 
above it. 

Opposite to me sat the very young-looking Polish 
mamma of a pretty daughter and a Uttle boy dressed 
in a Russian semi-uniform. He told us he had gone 
through all the horrors of Odessa, and his sister said 
that the^^ had been bereft of all their estates and that 
her uncle had had a hundred Arab horses coupe en 
morceaux by the people. She added, with a resigned 
smile : ' The peasants did not want to do it, as they 
loved my uncle, but the agitators insisted, and they 
had to obey or they would have been killed them- 
selves.' They had been shut up for months in 
their house. No wonder mother and children looked 
anaemic. 

There were more Poles and Russians — men, all of 
them, and Austrian officers, come, I suppose, to heal 
the smart of some old wound. The whole of the 
little company was quiet, contented, and extremely 
well-mannered. 

The food, which is in great part vegetarian, is quite 
good and very nourishing, as it is cooked to retain all 



248 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

the salts and phosphates in the vegetables. Nothing 
but clear icy water stands on the table. 

Brixen is a bishopric and stands on many waters. 
At the end of ever}^ tortuous street a bridge spans a 
rushing stream. The ancient houses have an archi- 
tecture quite their own, with the fantastic German 
element much accentuated, especially in some flat 
bow windows, which look as if the wall had been 
pressed out after it was built. 

One evening, walking quickly along a narrow 
street, I nearly stumbled over the end of a bier set 
half-way out of a small doorway. On the black cotton- 
velvet pall, which was thrown over the cofhn, a wreath 
of artificial pink roses with crudely green leaves and 
some gilt Christmas-tree paper was placed around a 
little lamp with a transparency of the Virgin upon 
it. It must, I think, have been the coffin of a child, 
it was so very short. Some women in black stood 
around it. 

The bishop's palace is built in a bold uncommon 
German Rococo style, with an interesting doorway, 
flanked by two windows which form part of it ; but 
the most unique and enchanting feature of the town 
are the ancient Romanesque cloisters entirely frescoed, 
which possess the mysterious charm and attraction 
produced by the union of the Byzantine and the 
earliest Gothic. I had not time to learn their history, 
and the frost nipped too fiercely to stand for long 
under those sunless vaults ; but on a summer's day 



BRIXEN AND HEALTH 249 

one might pass a few delightful hours communing 
with the quaint figures on those walls. Around the 
town, among trees, or in the middle of white fields, 
which in summer would be green, stand little houses, 
each one b}^ itself, dotted about rather like the houses 
out of Nuremberg toy-boxes. They are very square 
and all of them rather high, and their surroundings 
are often perfectly bare. Upon entering, you are 
astonished to find in them apartments not spacious, 
but the acme of comfort, beautifully warmed, thickly 
carpeted, and replete with good furniture, plate, and 
pictures. These flats are often inhabited by ladies, 
highly cultured, who come to Brixen in search of 
health and then have stayed from affection for the 
place or gratitude for the cure achieved. One of 
them told me that she had been sixteen years on her 
back in agonising pain, she could not even bear to 
be touched. She is now straight and lithe, and walks 
with quick elastic steps. A miracle to look at, when 
one knows what she has gone through. 

One afternoon late I was sitting in one of these 
pretty retreats, to which the French term calfeutre 
applies so well. It had been snowing all day, but 
now the moon was beginning to struggle out. All 
round the square house lay a spotless, pathless shroud 
of snow, and the great white mountains loomed 
up into the sky, with the serried ranks of dark 
firs straggling up their flanks. On one side of the 
house a few hundred yards away, just on the edge of 



250 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

its own particular snow-field, stood quite by itself a 
grey Franciscan church. It was Gothic in style and 
very plain, but right down its fagade, from the roof to 
the portal, ran a wide and vividly frescoed band upon 
a gold ground. It stood out when the rays of the 
moon touched it in a curious and unreal way, like the 
leaf of a missal in limelight. As I walked home, 
the absolute stillness of the air, the utter solitude, 
and the absence of sound gave me the idea of being 
in a dream. 

The sunsets in that valley are stupendous in colour 
and effect. The clouds and mists that hang about 
the mountain sides take most fantastic shapes and 
shades. In the daytime the pointed peaks of the 
Pusterthal gleam like frosted silver on a dark and 
stormy horizon, and at sunset the}/ glow on a back- 
ground of serene and translucent blue in every scale 
of gold and apricot to the flaming of live coal and then 
fade back into the ghostly green which sends a shiver 
of regret through all those who know and love the 
mountains well. I left Brixen as I came, silently in 
the dead of night. I was sorry, even after so short 
a time, to lose sight of the kind faces that had sur- 
rounded me, no more to feel the icy kiss of the pure 
air upon my cheek, to miss the well-filled, reposeful 
life which braces one up till one feels one cannot be ill. 
I reflected as I leant back in my railway compartment 
upon the problem why so many live out their day 
without ever grasping what health really is, without 



BRIXEN AND HEALTH 251 

ever trying to arrive at it or finding how easy it is to 
attain. That it is positively wicked to be ill when one 
might be a joy to oneself and a pleasure to others 
many will even not own. When one considers how 
simple and safe the means, how delicious the feeling 
of vigour and exultation, and, most important of all, 
how lasting the effect of this knowledge of a healthier, 
simpler, better life must be on those who have any 
character and intelligence, one cannot help wondering 
how few there are who can muster the courage to root 
themselves up out of their sluggard ways and try the 
experiment ! 



CHAPTER XI 



A MODEL REPUBLICAN 



I WAS turning over some old papers in an idle hour. 
They had been labelled ' Useless ' by one who had 
looked them through for a more serious work than 
would ever come within my scope. I am, however, 
curious of historical oddities, and my eyes were arrested 
by some folds of thick yellowish paper, on the top of 
which were inscribed, in the flourishing, aggressive, 
and yet sentimental calligraphy which distinguished 
the patriots of 1789, the magic words : — 

LIBERTY EGALITE 

FRATERNITE 

Magic words they must indeed have been, as so 
many believed in them as a panacea for every evil ; 
and yet, when was there less liberty in any country 
than in poor handcuffed France during the ten j^ears 
which followed the ' Serment du jeu de paume,' on 
the 20th of June 1789 ? 

The ' Egalite ' consisted in ignorant and brutal 

ruffians trampling on the conscientious, the weak, the 

252 



A MODEL REPUBLICAN 253 

timid, and educated ; and the ' Fraternite,' in murder- 
ing every brother who was not of the same opinion as 
themselves. 

Just as I was handhng the paper, a French diplo- 
mat was announced. I knew him for a man whose 
knowledge and learning was only equalled by the 
charm of his manners. He had for twenty years 
presided over the inner econom}^ of the Quai 
d'Orsay, and ended his distinguished career as 
Ambassador at one of France's most important 
and difficult missions. 

He was, I knew, acquainted with most of the 
eminent men of his country, and innumerable papers 
of every kind, historical as well as political, had passed 
through his hands, whilst his pure and vigorous diction 
and refined taste made him an excellent judge in 
literary matters. 

Delighted with my trouvaille, which I had hastily 
scanned, I gave him the paper, asking him whether 
he thought it had ever been published. He read it 
through twice, once to himself, and the second time 
aloud, giving the proper emphasis to the salient parts, 
and he declared that seldom, if ever, had he come 
across a document with so much local colour and such 
extraordinary savour ; nor did he think it had ever 
been printed. 

It may be well to preface the document with some 
short historical notes. The paper is a denunciation 
to the French nation, and in especial to the ' Directeur 



254 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

Leveillere Lepaux/ against the ' Citoyen Bonnier,' 
plenipotentiary of the French RepubHc at Rastadt. 
It is signed by one General Barein, a personage of 
whom it has been impossible to discover anything — 
a meet punishment for his arrogance, bloodthirstiness, 
and egregious vanity. 

The accused Bonnier was a ci-devant Marquis 
d'Arco, and his name became celebrated because he, 
together with his two colleagues, the renegade priest 
Roubergeat and the citoyen Jean de Bry, were the 
victims of the great political murder which electrified 
the whole of Europe in April 1799. These were the 
events which led to this climax. Immediately after 
the signature of the Peace of Campo Formio, a congress 
was called to promote the general peace. It met at 
Rastadt in the autumn of 1797, and lasted till the 
spring of 1799. All the Powers sent their delegates to 
this congress. 

Sir Arthur Paget, who at that time was accredited 
as Minister Plenipotentiary and Envoy Extraordinary 
to the Court of Munich and the Diet of Ratisbon, was 
in constant communication with the delegates at 
Rastadt, and it was thus probably that the unique 
document I referred to got into his possession. These 
facts also speak for its authenticity. 

The French envoys propagated revolutionary ideas 
amongst the German populations, and tried to 
detach the southern States, especially Bavaria and 
Wirtemberg, from Austria. This was bitterly re- 



A MODEL REPUBLICAN 255 

sented by the latter Power, and it was determined 
to get hold of documents which should prove these 
facts. 

The three French envoys received notice from 
Austria to leave Rastadt within twenty-four hours, 
and after having been detained during the day by 
various reasons, they left the town just as darkness 
was setting in and in pouring rain. They were accom- 
panied by their wives, daughters, and servants ; there 
were four or five carriages. 

They had hardly proceeded a mile when they were 
surprised by a detachment of Czeckler Hussars, who, 
without parley, at once put the delegates to the sword 
in the presence of their wives and suite. 

Jean de Bry, one of the envoys, was, however, not 
mortally wounded, and, favoured by the darkness, 
managed to creep behind a bush, where he lay in hiding 
until towards morning a market-gardener came by 
and took him in his cart to the neighbouring Strasburg. 

There, though wounded in many places, he wrote 
a letter to one of his relations giving an account of 
the tragedy. This letter is still in the possession of 
one of his descendants, who twice within the last ten 
years directed France's foreign affairs, and from whose 
lips I hold the foregoing details. 

Thugut was at that time Foreign Secretary at 
Vienna, and the Archduke Charles commanded the 
troops in Southern Germany. He was horrified at 
the crime, and at once made profuse excuses. 



256 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

It never transpired, however, whether the officer 
who commanded the detachment which perpetrated 
the deed was punished. 

The Czeckler Hussars are Hungarian troops, formed 
from a tribe or clan descended from the Huns, from 
whom they have inherited all the distinguishing 
attributes. They have straight coal-black hair and 
small gleaming black eyes. Their faces are round 
and flat ; they are short, with lithe figures, and have 
an inimitable seat on horseback. 

They hardly speak German, and it is probable 
that the moral qualities of their ancestors have 
descended to them as unalloyed as those of their 
physique. 

The accusation against the envoy Bonnier was 
penned about a year before these tragic events, and 
was addressed to Leveillere Lepaux, one of the Direc- 
toire, a well-meaning, absolutely incapable theorist. 
Botany was his favourite occupation, and he was 
everybody's laughing-stock. 

He had invented the ' Theolantropy,' and nourished 
a violent hatred for religion, on account of which he 
was loathed by Royalists and Churchmen. 

In the diaries of M. de Bray, a Frenchman who 
was by no means a reactionary and on a good footing 
with many of the foremost Republicans, we find some 
curious notes on the society which produced such 
people as ' General Barein.' 

Bray had returned to France in 1797, after ten 



A MODEL REPUBLICAN 257 

j^ears' exile, and he was immensely astonished and 
shocked b}^ the things he saw. 
He says that : — 

The theatres, which formerly were filled by a 
select audience, well educated and with charming 
manners, are now crammed with a dirty and dis- 
orderly crowd and women of disreputable and 
common appearance. Men and women seemed to be 
coarse and brutal. 

Formerly one entered into conversation with one's 
neighbours about art, literature, or the plays that 
were being acted, but the present ignorant public 
knows nothing of these topics or has the most absurd 
ideas about them. 

The men are attired in short jackets and long 
breeches, and the women appear in juste au corps and 
gigantic caps. Everybody looked gloomy and cross. 
Talent, grace, and beauty [he continues] have dis- 
appeared from society, which can hardly be said to 
still exist. 

The salons have become the arena for indiscreet 
champions, who hurl coarse abuse at each other for 
differences in political opinions. 

After the theatre the crowd adjourns to Valloni, 
the great confectioner of ices. He has his shop in the 
Pavilion de Hanovre, which formerly belonged to the 
Due de Richeheu and stood in his garden. The garden 
has been turned into a street, and only one corner of 
it is used for a cafe. 

Here the Incroyables, with their huge cravats and 
hats and their straight hair, and clothes hanging on 
them like sacks, lead their ladies, who, with a shawl 
hanging over one shoulder and their unbecoming 
coiffures, look more like victims being led to the 
scaffold than the Roman matrons whom they are 



258 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

striving to imitate. With one hand they hold up 
their draperies, which, made of transparent fabrics, 
model their forms in no very attractive way, and they 
justify M. de Talleyrand's biting remark ' Habillees 
comme on ne se deshabille pas.' 

Of conversation there is no trace, and when all 
have bored themselves sufficiently for their money 
they go home. 

The Republic created an enormous mass of 
officials, many more than were wanted. These men, 
belonging to the dregs of the population, uneducated 
and greedy, separate their personal interests entirely 
from those of the Republic, and only live to make 
money. The entire absence of morals and religion 
makes them absolutely indifferent to right and wrong. 

The decay of all educational establishments and 
the licence of manners have brutalised the French 
nation, and a generation is growing up which may 
become the disgrace of humanity. The young men 
of seventeen to twenty-four are insolent beyond 
description, and their insolence is only equalled by 
their crass ignorance. 

They have grown up without any guidance in 
the midst of revolutionary corruption, and unite the 
most ridiculous and extravagant manners to spiritual 
decadence. 

These arrogant young dunces believe themselves 
to be philosophers, and their code of morals is to 
despise all that is good and useful. The abolished 
religion is replaced by the chatter of philanthropists, 
which stands in lieu of Christianity, and the criminal 
code is such that it invites evil deeds. 

Lepelletier St. Fargeau, who indited this code, 
seems to have made it for angels, and not to have 
believed in sin. He was, of course, murdered by a 
man who, in obedience to these laws, was allowed to 
go scot-free. With such laws it is almost impossible 



A MODEL REPUBLICAN 259 

to convict an3^body, as the most ghastly crimes are 
only punished according to the intentions the per- 
petrator acknowledges to have had. 

It is impossible to give in detail the terrible picture 
M, de Bray delineates of the state of France in those 
days, and one can only look upon Napoleon's mur- 
derous wars, which entirely wiped out this criminal 
and debased generation, as the greatest blessing for 
France. 

Though wounded and curtailed in many ways, 
she was able to rise once more, if not for long, to be 
the leading nation of continental Europe. We can at 
present afford to smile at the mixture of pomposity, 
false sentimentality and tigerish ferocity displayed by 
the ' honest and pure Republican Barein ' ; but if we 
reflect that more than four years had passed since the 
' Terreur ' was ended by the death of Robespierre, 
and that it is general^ considered that France had 
by that time returned to a more normal state, it 
gives one rather the cold shivers to think in what 
an atmosphere of fear, suspicion, delation, and 
hatred that unfortunate country must have been 
enveloped for many more years than is generally 
supposed. 

The relations of the accused Bonnier with his 
servant, who is also his friend and brother-in-law, are 
extremely funny and subversive ; and still more 
astounding are the apostrophes of the writer to the 
shades of the ' bon Marat and brave Carrier,' and his 



26o SCENES AND MEMORIES 

satisfaction at his own rectitude and the extreme 
humanity of the French nation, whilst it was engaged 
in sweeping away at one fell stroke 10,000 priests, 
murdering the wretched prisoners of the Abbaye, and 
drowning in hundreds monks and nuns and other quiet 
and helpless people for no other offence than that of 
having a religion. 

Most humorous, too, is the condescension towards 
the Eire supreme, which he deigns to recognise because 
Vetat civil has been conferred upon it. What sorrows, 
what misfortunes, what injustices, one asks oneself, 
must a soul that has sunk so low have gone through, 
and what an abyss of ferocious madness unfolds itself 
in the following document ! 

I give it with the original spelling. 

liberte egalite 

FRATERNITE 

Denociation au peuple frangais et au Directeur 
Reveillere Lepaux Centre le Citoyen Bonnier ministre 
plenipotentiaire de la Republique frangaise a Rastatt. 

Un Citoyen vraiment zele pour le bonheur et la 
prosperite de la grande nation, croirait manquer a ce 
que I'honneur et les sermens lai prescrivent s'il ne 
mettait au jour la Conduite que vient de tenir a Rastatt 
le Citoyen Bonnier, 

Guide par 1' amour de la patrie et la verite, le denon- 
ciateur exposera les faits purement et Simplement ; 
il abandonne aux Republicains probes et severes, le 
droit de pronocer sur le compte d'un des premiers 
fonctionnaires de la republique. 



A MODEL REPUBLICAN 261 

Un patriote de 89, agent du Directoire et charge 
Specialement de surveiller les agens diplomatiques a 
I'Exterieur, est passe hier a dijon, revenant de Rastatt, 
on il a ete temoin du scandale occasionne par le Citoyen 
Bonnier. Le Recit qu'il m'a fait de cet acte vraimedt 
incivique, m'a paru d'une telle importance, que j'ai 
juge a propos d'y donner la plus grande publicite. 

FAITS 

Le Citoyen Bonnier avait un valet de chambre, 
vrai republicain, et qui depuis le commencement de 
la Revolution a donne des preuves d'un Civisme aussi 
ardent qu'eclaire. habitant un pays ou le peuple n'est 
pas encore a la hauteur des principes, il s'occuppait 
dans les momens de loisir, a propager Ceux de la 
liberte, tantot il haranguait avec chaleur ses con- 
freres domestiques de differens aristocrates de Congres ; 
tantot se melant parmi le peuple, il lui demontrait 
combien la revolution est avantageuse a I'humanite 
en general et au peuple fran9ais en particulier. il 
retan^ait avec une audace etonnante ces imbeciles 
imbus de prejuges et vils fiagorneurs des despotes. en 
vain le Citoyen Bonnier cherchait sous differens 
pretextes a diminuer le zele patriotique dont Son 
serviteur etait enfiame : 

injonctions, menaces, prieres, rien ne pouvait 
I'Empecher de dire hautement des verites utiles : 
aucun danger ne I'intimidait, c'est ce qu'il vient de 
prouve en perissant froidement pour la liberte et 
I'Egalite. 

depuis qu'il est mort les infames suppots de I'ari- 
tocratie, entassent sur Son Compte, Calomnies, Sur 
Calomnies : 

suivant eux, cette victime interessante ne fut autre 
chose qu'un taquin, un insolent, un jacobin forcene, 
mals j 'oppose a leurs declamations qu'il fut patriote 



262 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

pur et a ce titre sacre, ennemi jure des abus de I'ancien 
regime. 

Le hazard 1' ay ant conduit dernierement dans un 
Cabaret, ou etaient reunis quelques vils esclaves, il 
s'approcha D'eux avec douceur et chercha a les amener 
par degre a une conversation toute patriotique : Ces 
Brutaux echauffes par le Vin, firent a peine attention 
aux discours du republicain, Cependant rien ne le 
decouragea et multipliant les bons argumens il parvint 
enfin a se faire entendre : Les yeux rayonnant de joye, 
il croyait avoir opere dans ses audit eurs, un change- 
ment salutaire, lorsque profitant d'une circonstance 
locale, il ota son chapeau et presenta au baiser fraternel 
le signe sacre de la liberte, la cocarde nationale. 

Mais Crime ! Vengeance ! les scelerats loin de 
se rendre a son invitation, I'insultent, le frappent et le 
chassent du Cabaret : transporte de fureur, hors de lui, 
le malheureux jeune homme ne voit de resource que 
la Mort. il vecut republicain, il veut mourir digne de 
ce beau titre. 

en vain le Citoyen Rippaille Cuisinier du Citoyen 
jean debry, veut le detourner de ses projets sinistres, 
il s'echappe de ses mains, courre et se precipite dans 
la rivere ... a I'instant meme il est englouti sous 
I'epaisseur des glaces !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 
jettons quelques fleurs sur sa tombe et venons aux 
torts que la posterite toujours juste, imputera au 
Citoyen Bonnier. 

En vain tu te flattes, ministre hipocryte d'en im- 
poser au public par des regrets simules ; la Conduite 
que tu viens de tenir, prouve invinciblement, combien 
tu etais indigne d'avoir dans la maison, un aussi 
Vertueux republicain. 

Ton cagotime et ta bigoterie ont outrage la memore 
de ce martyr de la liberte, que tu devais cherir sous le 
double rapport, d'ami fidele et de beaufrere. 

que repondras tu a sa soeur I'objet de tes affections 



A MODEL REPUBLICAN 263 

les plus tendres, lorsqu'elle te reprochera d'avoir 
assimile son frere a un capucin decede ? 

Monstre, lis ton acte d'accusation. 

Le Cadavre de ton malheureux serviteur ayant ete 
retrouve, les patriotes de la Legation fran9aise se 
flattaient que tu ordonnerais en son honneur, une 
ceremonie simple, touchante et republicaine ; mais 
non, au lieu de te conformer a nos lois et nos usages, tu 
as livre les restes inanimes d'un republicain a un clerge 
refractaire et fanatique. 

aux hymnes patriotiques, au Drapeau tricolore qui 
devait couvrir le cerceuil de ton Concito37en, tu as fait 
substituer un drap mortuaire et les psaumes d'une 
secte que nous exterminons depuis dix ans. Quoi 
done le peuple francais te paye-t-il pour faire revivre 
cette superstition, dont les effets ont ete si funestes, a 
une foule de bons patriotes ? et ces cloches que tu as 
fait sonner avec tant de fracas, ne rappellent elles pas 
les declamations ridicules de ce Camille Jordan qui 
etourdissait le Conseil des 800, avec la religion de ses 
peres ! ton procede anticivique insulte a la republique, 
a la morale et a la philosophie. 

as tu done oublie les beaux jours de ybre 1792 ! ce 
moment regenateur ou le peuple purgea la france de 
plus de 10,000 pretres seditieux et fantiques ? je 
presidais alors le tribunal etabli dans la prison de 
I'abbaye et je fus juste. 

Les fondateurs de la republique, respectables 
membres de la Convention nationale firent egorger 
cette secte de pertubarteurs, et six ans apres toi, 
-plenipotentiare de notre republique, tu as I'effronterie 
et la bassesse de te servir du ministere de pretres 
Catholiques ? 

j'etais membre de la commission militaire de 
Saumur, a I'Epoque ou la Convention nationale 



264 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

toujours grande et toujours juste, fit noyer a nantes et 
a angers, pretres, moines, religieuses, ainsi que tous 
leurs partisans : tu siegeais au senat et tu approiivas 
ces mesures salutaires, par quel inconcevable travers 
d'esprit, as tu done fait celebrer un service funebre 
par des pretres refractaires, aux lois de la republique ? 
6 temps ! 6 moeurs ! 6 patrie ! 
C'est done inutilement, que lorsque je dirigeais la 
commission temporaire de lyon, je faisais foudroyer 
les ministres d'une religion proscrite puisque bonnier 
au milieu de nos ennemis, fait par sa conduite la satyre 
de nos institutions sages et republicaines. 

puisqu'il faUait un Cure au Citoyen Bonnier, que 
ne s'addressait-il a son CoUegue Rouberjeat ? ce dernier 
n'avait-il pas toutes les qualites requises ? il fut jadis 
cure de macon, jura, preta dix sermens civiques pour 
un et secoua gaiement tous les prejuges dans lesquels 
nos ancetres etaient encroutes. 

O vertueux ami du peuple, bon marat ! 6 incor- 
ruptible Robespierre ! 6 Brave Carrier ! vrais et 
sinceres republicains, qui accellerates au prix de 
votre sang la regeneration du peuple frangais, 
Braves montagnards qui fites noyer, fusilier et de- 
porter les pretres, aux grandes acclamations du 
corps legislatif. Taction de Bonnier ne vous fait 
elle pas tresaillir d'horreur dans vos tombeaux ? 
Bonnier partagea vos honorables travaux. Bonnier 
vota la mort du tyran. Bonnier proscrivit le Catho- 
licism, Bonnier fut associe a votre gloire, et aujour- 
d'hui ce meme Bonnier se met en contradiction avec 
sa conduite anterieure et avec nos principes de 
philantropie. 

Que dis-je ? Bonnier a agi d'apres I'impulsion de 
sa conscience, car jamais Bonnier ne fut republicain. 
la peur seule, I'associa aux enfans de la montagne, mais 
il conserva toujours au fond du cceur les habitudes 
aristocratiques. 



A MODEL REPUBLICAN 265 

Sans culotte a I'exterieur, il fut tou jours chez lui le 
magistrat de Tancien regime, le president de la cour 
des aides de montpellier, en un mot le ce-devant 
impudent Marquis d'arco. 

il repousse avec une insolente fierte les republicains 
qui s'adressent a lui et si il faut que je dise ici toute 
ma pensee, je le soupsonne fortement de trahir les plus 
chers interets de la republique. 

je denonce Bonnier au peuple souverain et je 
I'accuse d'avoir fait enterrer par un clerge Catholique, 
un Cityen qui n'etait plus Catholique a datter du jour 
ou la Convention nationale accorda I'Etat civil a 
I'Etre supreme et decreta qu'elle reconnaissait son 
existance. 

j 'accuse Bonnier d'avoir fait dire trois messes a 
rastatt, d'avoir force ses valets d'y assister et par 
consequent d'avoir provoque le retour du Culte 
Catholique, dans I'interieur de la Republique. 

je te denonce Bonnier, sensible Reveillere L'epaux : 
il appartient au fondateur et au propagateur du Culte 
theophilantropique de prononcer solennellement sur 
un delit aussi grave que celui dont I'infame Bonnier 
s'est rendu coupable. 

Le directeur executif charge specialement de 
desoler la patience des preires, ne manquera pas de punir 
I'incivisme de son delegue au Congres de Rastatt. 

fasse le ciel que le tartuffe Bonnier cesse Bientot 
de representer, la plus grande, la plus juste et 
surtout la plus humaine des nations ! Si le Directoire 
n'est pas sourd a la voix d'un de ses plus fideles 
appuis, il exaucera mes voeux et fera remplacer 
le Catholique-fanatique Bonnier par quelque bon 
sans culotte, ennemi des despotes et des tyrans 
coalises, C'est a dire par un republicain place entre 
le succes et I'Echaffaud, tel que le tyrannicide jean 
de bry. 

A Dijon le ler nivose de I'an 7 de la Republique, 



266 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

une et indivisible, democratique et imperissable et la 
cinquieme de la mort du tyran. 

Le General de brigade Barein vainqueur de la 
Bastille, ex-president de la commission temporaire 
de lyon et depuis le i8 fructidor, nomme par le 
Direct oire Commandant miltaire a Dijon. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 

I SEE a town set in a cup of green jasper. Its 
towers and palaces, its domes and spires glitter like 
jewels in the southern sun. 

The rich and verdant plain, and the majestic 
sapphire mountains which hem it in, are studded 
with many thousands of shimmering villas and castles, 
convents and churches, and opalescent little burghs, 
and villages half hidden under their silver veils of 
olive, or watched over by dark and stately cypress 
groves. 

Wild windstorms sweep down over the plains in 

winter, and lurid thunderclouds often lower amongst 

the snow-capped mountain-peaks; and those who are 

left in the beautiful valley to watch the pomegranate 

unfold its flaming petals, or the oleander flood with 

its sea-spray blossom the gardens of the ancient 

palaces, pray that the benignant showers may descend 

from the hills to refresh the riches which in this 

favoured spot spring in every season from the bosom 

of the earth. 

267 



268 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

A writer and great art-critic, walking the other 
day upon the terrace of an ancient villa, which stands 
aloof above the town, said, looking down upon it : — 

' Es ruht ein Glueck auf dieser Stadt ! ' 
[' Happiness reposes upon this city ! 'J 

And this is true, for the sparkling air acts upon one's 
vitalit}^ like a glass of champagne. The atmosphere 
is of a transparency equalled only by the Isles of 
Greece ; and the gracefulness of its buildings, and the 
graciousness of its setting, its wealth of flowers, and 
its glittering life, inspire the superficial observer with 
a feeling of gaiety and romance unknown in any 
other place. 

For some months in the year, lighthearted thou- 
sands and hundreds of thousands rush at breathless 
speed through the frescoed and monumental churches ; 
they give a cursory look at the priceless pictures of 
the unequalled galleries, and they pace quickly through 
the rich museums of the town. They ransack for 
treasure the ever-renewed stock of attractive bric-a- 
brac shops. They turn over the picturesque trinkets 
on the Jeweller's Bridge ; and the most venturous or 
wealthy embark in ropes of pearls which the}^ always 
maintain to have got at half-price. 

The less energetic ones wander up and down the 
sunny quays which border the waters which Shelley 
sung and which his words reflect almost poignantlj^ 
into our souls. 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 269 

Within the surface of the fleeting river 
The wrinkled image of the city lay 

Immoveably quiet, and for ever 

It trembles, but it does not fade away. 

You, being changed, will find it then as now ! 

In the golden afternoon, merry crowds can be 
seen driving in the wide avenues of the fairy woods, 
planted by a long-exiled Hne of Princes. When the 
sun paints in rose-colour and violet the mountain 
ranges, the ladies draw about them their costly furs 
and order the coachman to drive to some great palace 
where they join a friend's select ' five-o'clock,' or 
they go to the fashionable confectioner to devour 
cakes in company of the native garrison. In the 
evening they play, sing, and dance in the spacious 
halls of the amply gilt, largest, and newest hotels. 

To these visitors of a fleeting hour the mysterious 
city is a place of distraction, excitement, and amuse- 
ment — and nothing else. They never even suspect 
what lies beneath the polished surface of ' Quella citta 
pulita come un gioello,' as that exceedingly clever, but 
absolutely immoral rascal, Benvenuto CelHni, called it. 

This town was once the capital of a most happy 
and thriving Httle land. A country, which by its 
beauty, the gentilezza and culture of its inhabitants, 
and the security and liberty which were enjoyed 
within its limits, attracted all art-loving foreigners : 
not in the great masses of our modern days, but still 
in larger quantities than any other city. Society 



270 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

there was, a hundred years ago, just as cosmopoUtan, 
peculiar, and vague as it is now. 

A witty woman called the mysterious city ' la ville 
du pardon,' because whatever sins against society 
made people impossible in other places, they are sure, 
as soon as their foot treads its charmed soil, to be at 
once engulfed into its moral chiaroscuro, where none 
suffers an eclipse unless they wish to do so. 

But there are many who do wish to disappear, and 
for them there is no surer refuge. 

The other day, one of those ubiquitous men whom 
everybody knows and who seems to be in every place 
at once and who call every man and woman in smart 
society by their Christian names, always claiming 
them as intimate friends, and often as cousins, 
said : — 

' I met X last night, as I was walking back 

from my club ' (he named the well-known bearer of 
a great historical English name) . ' He is a relation 
of mine, you know, and I used to be very intimate 
with him. I was so astonished, and asked him when 
he arrived, and he answered : — 

* " My dear fellow, I have lived here for seven 
years, but I don't go anywhere, and do not wish to 
know anybody." ' 

I said I would go and see him, and questioned him 
as to where he lived, and he only vaguely mentioned 
one of the least attractive outskirts of the town. 
I was, however, determined to find out, and I 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 271 

discovered, hidden amongst bays and oleanders, what 
must have been a wing of some ancient summer-palace 
of the former dukes. A broken fountain stands near 
the house and some moss-grown statues border a grassy 
avenue that leads into the open country. 

There X has lived for seven years with a 

lady I did not see. The husband I am told comes 
and goes and seems quite satisfied ! 

There are hundreds of such unsuspected existences 
within and without the walls of the mysterious city, 
and if in summer you wander along the white moonlit 
lanes or walk on misty winter afternoons in the de- 
serted woods, figures emerge before you which give 
you a sudden shock, because for years they had 
completely faded from your memory. 

There is no Court in this town, no official life, no 
social centre. People come to it as to any other 
winter resort. Everybody does what the}' like ; 
nobody knows or asks. 

Those who for years have lived next door to each 
other often do not know their neighbour's name, and 
people who for fifty years have dwelt in a villa on one 
side of the town have never been to a villa on the 
other side. 

In the days when a brilliant and hospitable Court 
was at the head of society, many clever and art-loving 
men and beautiful and charming women of every 
nation and every reputation flocked to the city. The 
famous ' Dame aux perles ' had her palace on the banks 



272 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

of the river, and to hers I could add a string of equally 
well-known names. These ladies had the strange 
habit of onty beginning their life at midnight — that is, 
their doors only opened then to their acquaintances. 
Even some decades ago, and long after the gay and 
benign Princes had fled, and a few years of an ephemeral 
of&cial life had quite changed the face of the city, a 
few of these ladies still remained, and were termed 
by a younger and more matutinal generation les 
dames d'apres minuit. At balls they never appeared 
till long past one in the morning, and if they gave balls 
they thought themselves disgraced unless their guests 
remained to breakfast. Let us glance into the houses 
of the most typical ones. 

We enter a ver};^ splendid palace and ascend a wide 
staircase lined with huge mirrors in profusely gilt 
frames. In the ante-room several well-stjded servants 
receive our wraps and furs. The doors are thrown 
open and a long vista of luxuriously furnished salons 
stretches out before us. The walls are hung with the 
crude and expensive brocades of the early sixties, and 
all the sumptuous furniture is covered with the same 
silk, thickly capitoneed within frames of elaborately 
carved gilt wood. 

Candles burn in bronze chandeliers, and ormulu 
carcel lamps stand on boule consoles. 

The mistress of the house, a distinguished-looking 
woman of uncertain age, advances to meet us. About 
half a dozen men arise as we enter. A lady sitting 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 273 

down, with a gilt chiavari chair in front of her, takes 
one foot off the cross-bar on which its companion still 
reposes, and feebly moves her fan. A slight perfume 
of cigarette astonishes our, in those days, unaccustomed 
nostrils, and we perceive the master of the house, 
young and very dapper, in a small fumoir some rooms 
off, surrounded by another half-dozen men. These 
are the fine fluer of the sporting circles, and most 
of them are almost boys ; whilst those who listen to 
the lady's animated and amusing conversation are 
nearly all deputies and senators and other persons of 
mark, brought to the mysterious city by the evolutions 
and exigencies of the new government. 

We sink down into the luxurious ' Poltrone ' and 
one of the men at once puts the inevitable chiavari 
chair in front of us ; for though the carpets are thick, 
the icy marble floor strikes chilhly through our satin 
shoes. The friend, simply attired in black silk, 
had once been fast and fair. She wears a string of 
huge and faultless pearls, and in her ears single 
diamonds the size of cherries. She intersperses our 
hostess's brilliant talk with little grunts, whilst the 
men sit around in admiring silence. A servant appears 
with some iced lemonade, and after three-quarters of 
an hour we retire, and get to bed about two in the 
morning, knowing that our hosts will sit up a good hour 
more, as they do night after night. 

Another night, at twelve-fifteen, our carriage stops 



274 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

in a forlorn and narrow street near the great city walls, 
which in those days still encircled the town with a 
magic ring of beauty. The house, or rather villa, 
looks, in the parlance of the country, ' decaduto.' 
Wreaths of wistaria curtain the tall garden wall. 

The doer is opened by a scrubby and ver}^ sleepy 
porter. The steep and rather narrow staircase, 
covered by the common carpet made in the prisons 
from rags, takes us into a neglected lobby. As we 
enter a long, high, but rather narrow room, the stifling 
smoke of many strong cigars nearly arrests our progress. 

The room is badly lit ; but we notice that an in- 
discriminating taste has furnished it from second-rate 
bric-a-brac shops. 

At one end of the room, before a long dresser, a 
score of men are crowded together. Nearly all of them 
wear uniform. They are busily employed in devouring 
ham sandwiches and lobster salads. A long row of 
Marsala bottles and flagons of Chianti wine reveal 
that these gentlemen are not teetotallers. A tall 
and portly lady, with a mass of very fair hair and some 
remains of good looks, stands on the hearthrug at the 
farther end of the room puf&ng at a large cigar. She 
receives us with expansion and makes us feel that our 
advent is a real pleasure to her. Her manner at once 
betrays that her earlier years were spent in a society 
very different from the rather mixed and rough one 
which seems to be her present choice. She is an 
Enghshwoman, the bearer of a great name, but none 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 275 

would know from her speech that she is a foreigner, 
for she formulates the lingua Toscana with as much 
airy grace as an}^ native. She landed the barque of 
her life in the mysterious city years ago, after having 
tossed rudderless on the ocean of misfortune. How- 
ever, the sins which she may have committed towards 
herself have been redeemed a hundredfold by her wide 
charities and her unbounded kindness. Her wit and 
her powers of conversation are second to none. 

The pretty, sad, and refined-looking little woman 
who now enters, belongs to the same aristocratic 
society from which our hostess seceded by her own 
free-will ; but Lady Gueraldia had not the same metal 
in her. She fades away under the ostracism of her 
friends and famil}^ and within a few months her d\dng 
request will be to be laid in a pauper's grave without 
name or sign, with only a number upon it, on the 
sunny hill where stands the white-and-gold basilica, 
the most ancient and pathetic church of the city. 

It is now nearly one o'clock and the door opens 
again and displays a vision of seniillante beaut}' 
and brightness, followed by a short, stout man. Our 
hostess folds the vision into capacious arms, and the 
men at the other end leave their sandwiches and gather 
around the little whirlpool of pink tulle, diamonds, 
and tea-roses, her piquante frimousse crowned with 
essentially artificial golden curls, so oddly contrasting 
with the large childlike trusting blue e^^es. She too is 
a exile from the Island beyond the silver riband, 



276 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

and had she only Hved twenty years later, her naughty 
little ways and means would have been considered, 
if not quite correct, at least allowable, and she would 
not have been obliged to seek sanctuary in the 
mysterious city. 

We now take leave of the dames d'apres mimiit 
to make the acquaintance of some of the other in- 
habitants of ' years ago.' 

It is the reception day of the greatest lady in the 
town. She lives in the largest and most beautiful 
palace. Wide double stairways — such as are rarely 
seen but in royal precincts — lead to an immense hall 
of which all the entrances are hung with rich em- 
broideries representing the arms of the family. A 
copper brasero, as large as a table for eight, stands 
in the middle of the marble floor, and round it huddle 
a number of footmen in ill-fitting light-blue liveries. 

A white-haired Major Domo flings open a door and 
our eyes rove through a suite of ten or twelve rooms, 
all hung with priceless velvets and silks, and filled 
with objects of virtu; but nowhere, though we are in 
January, is there a trace of a fire. 

We walk briskly to keep ourselves warm, watching 
our breath as it becomes visible in the icy air; but 
suddenly we come to a standstill at the door of a very 
small and narrow room with one window only. 

The walls are sumptuously hung and decorated, 
and the shape of the room is so peculiar that we think 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 277 

we are in a chapel, until a feeble and rather high- 
pitched voice addresses us from the dark and 
narrow end opposite the window, and we perceive 
something small and fantastic, seated on a red-and- 
golden throne on each side of which are set six equally 
red-and-golden chairs closely ranged together against 
the walls. There is no other furniture in the 
room. 

I seat myself on the chair nearest the throne, and 
consider the little bundle which addresses me in ex- 
cellent and formal French, with great inflections of 
dignit}^ 

Some very precious lace, yellow with age, covers the 
sparse white hair which lies in flat bandeaus over the 
waxen forehead. Bright, intelligent, kind little eyes 
blink at me out of the smaU wizened face, to which a 
peaked but firmly moulded nose lends character. An 
ermine tippet hangs down far below the waist, and 
the gloved hands are hidden in an ermine muff. Two 
very small satin-clad feet protrude from under a skirt 
of black Genoese velvet and are set on a silver 
scaldino. 

Other ladies appear ; they are all past middle age ; 
they curtsy to the great One and arrange themselves 
according to rank on the chairs. 

When the Princess addresses them they sway 
forward and respond in respectful undertones. When 
the thirteenth lady appeared, we got up and resigned 
our chairs and, flying down the wide staircase, ran 



278 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

along the sunny quays to warm our feet and raise 
our spirits again. 

It was carnival, and I had stayed later than was 
my wont at a ball. The rooms were hot and I longed 
for a breath of fresh air. Taking the arm of an old 
friend, I ordered my carriage to follow at a distance. 
We walked along the quays that border the river. A 
large cold winter moon flooded the white pavement. 
The street-lamps of those days would be taken by a 
younger generation for glow-worms. Not a living 
creature was to be seen except two velvet-footed 
pussies — the animal of predilection of the inhabitants 
of the mjT-sterious city. 

Then suddenly, at some little distance, I perceived 
a dark figure flitting along under the shadow of the 
palaces; it stopped for a moment, and then crossed 
over into the moonlight and leant over the stone 
parapet under which the river swirls and rushes dark 
and sinister. 

' Look ! who is that ? ' I said, my attention aroused 
by the slim grace of the outline. 

My companion walked faster. He is short and 
thickset, a senator from the South, a man much versed 
in politics, and as much at home in Paris as in his 
native dolce Napoli. 

' I think I know ! It must be she,' he says to me 
as we approach, and putting his hand on the lady's 
arm he adds : — 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 



279 



' Nini ! since when are you here ? ' 

She turns and reveals in the white hght of the 
moon that face which for ten years had drawn crowds 
around her in every capital of Europe. 

She moved her arm as if she wished to keep my 
companion at a distance, and as her long black cloak 
fell back I saw beneath it, covering her from throat 
to waist, the famous necklace of white-and-black pearls 
which I knew could only belong to the celebrated 
Countess C . 

' What are you doing here alone at this hour and 
with all those pearls on ? What new folly is this ? ' 
exclaimed my friend impatiently. But instead of 
answering, the Countess only drew a stiletto from her 
bosom. ' Much good that will do you, my child ; 
and now go home; do not risk your life and pearls 
any more, and to-morrow I will go and see you. 
Where do you live ? ' 

She named a house in an obscure street, and my 
friend told me some days later that he had found this 
adulated beauty, who a few years before had not shrunk 
from gratifying her maddest caprices, who had had 
Emperors and Kings at her feet, who had been en- 
trusted with political missions by the greatest statesman 
of her country, in a miserable lodging, with no other 
servant but an old woman who cooked for her, whilst 
her son, a handsome lad of fifteen, swept the floor and 
did the most menial offices. 

She had disappeared from the scene of her triumphs 



28o SCENES AND MEMORIES 

because she thought she perceived that her beauty 
was waning, and had Hved for months in the town 
which was her birthplace and full of her friends and 
relations without anybody having a suspicion of it. 

One of the dames d'apres minuit, who had been 
her intimate friend, told me, that from the age of ten 
the beautiful Nini had only one thought, which was 
to lay by every penny to buy pearls for herself. On 
the day of her marriage she had to be dragged to the 

altar, as she did not think Count C good enough 

for her. It was she who said : ' What a fool my mother 
was not to take me to Paris, for I now should be 
Empress of the French ! ' Of other women she said : — 

Par ma naissance je les egale. 
Par ma beaute je les surpasse, 
Par mon esprit je les juge. 

It is night, and we stand before a dark and frowning 
palace — one of the oldest in the town. It looks like 
a fortress, and great iron-barred doors shut out the 
curious from a view of a small but ver}^ beautiful 
court. 

Open stairs, with balustrades supported on slender 
pillars, go up to the third and fourth story ; but we 
stop before a door on the first landing and flit unseen 
through rooms frescoed or hung with arras, and 
furnished stiffly with high-backed settees and chairs. 
Not a sound is heard. We traverse the long gallery, 
at the end of which we reach a locked door ; but we 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 281 

have the spirit password which dissolves matter, and 
we stand in a large room decorated in more modern 
taste. Its walls are covered with Empire silk of 
creamy pink, with embroidered wreaths of myrtle 
sprinkled all over it. 

One solitary candle is burning before a small shrine 
of the Madonna. The bed of satinwood, with finely 
chiselled bronze ornaments, stands on a raised step. 
A young lady, very pale, but beautiful, half hides her 
face amongst the laces which border her pillows. As 
she turns for a moment to whisper something to a 
mother^ looking woman who is leaning over her, 
we see that her brow is wrung with pain and moist 
with great drops of perspiration ; for it is June and yet 
all the windows are tightly closed and shuttered, and 
the thick silk curtains are carefulty drawn across the 
door. An agony of terror is depicted in the lady's 
large and liquid eyes, and the elder woman whispers : — 

' Courage, courage. Carina ! it will soon be over and 
nobody will know, only do not moan ' ; and she hands 
a large silk kerchief to the lady, who stuffs it between 
her teeth. 

In another moment an infant's wail echoes through 
the vaulted chamber, and something like a muttered 
oath resounds on the other side of the door. But the 
women do not hear : they are only thinking of the 
child born ; not to the joy, but to the mother's woe. 

The old woman deftly wraps the child into 
some sheets, and throwing a dark shawl over the 



282 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

little bundle, she opens the window and softly calls 
out ' Barnabo ! ' 

A peculiar low whistle is the answer, and firmly 
tying a silken cord around the child, she lowers it 
into the street. 

' It is all right, Signora Contessa ; do not fret ; 
Barnabo is a good man, and my daughter, his wife, is 
kind ; they will take care of the poor lamb.' Then she 
busies herself with tidying up the room and effacing 
every trace of what had happened. 

' See, Signora ! I got these Spanish jessamines 
yesterday, and will put them before the image of the 
blessed Virgin, Everybodj;^ knows that their scent 
is mortal to a woman in childbed, but the}^ shall not 
hurt you, dear, for I will stand the bowl in a saucer 
of water with some drops of oil on it, and 370U will be 
safe. This is a secret my grandmother told me and 
which nobody knows.' 

The lady wearily closed her eyes, and the waiting- 
woman withdrew after carefully unlocking the only 
door of the chamber and drawing the silk curtains 
aside. 

The day had not long dawned when an unusual 
noise and clatter was heard in the courtyard. Horses 
stamped and neighed and stablemen ran to and fro. 
Doors banged and messengers seemed to be dispatched 
in every direction. Soon after the sun had risen into 
the bluest and serenest of skies a heavy step was heard 
approaching from the gallery. A sharp knock, and 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 283 

the door opened quickly, and a tall burly man walked 
into the room. His t3'pe of features was material — 
almost brutal — though not without some good looks. 
He had the prominent eyes of the first Cosimo, so well 
depicted in the bust of coloured marbles by Benvenuto 
Cellini. You saw at once that his was a will not to 
be gainsaid. A cruel and sarcastic smile parted the 
thick lips over the long and pointed teeth. 

He stopped short for a second, sniffing the over- 
powering scent of the jessamine, and, perceiving the 
bowl with the flowers, said : — 

' How good and pious you are, Fiametta, to put 
these strong-scented flowers before the H0I3' Mother 
in your bedroom ! for they must give you a headache.' 

' Yes, ^T'ou are right, Cesare ; I could not shut an 
eye all night, and I feel very tired.' 

' I have prepared a surprise for you this morning — 
a little festa to celebrate my return after the many 
months I have been away ; and that is why I came so 
early to wake j^ou ; and you must get up at once and 
prepare to come with me.' 

' Oh, Cesare, what is it ? Can you not put it off to 
another day ? I am not fit for much exertion in this 
great heat. It was too stupid of Caterina to put those 
flowers there ! ' 

' This plan of mine will cure your headache at once ! ' 
and a flash of hatred flamed up in his hard eyes. 
' You have never seen my villa of Belcrudele with 
its great tanks, high up in the hills. It is quite 



284 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

unique, and a charming ride of only twenty miles — and 
you used to be so fond of riding. Some of our friends 
will accompany us and others follow in carriages. I 
have ordered a banquet to be ready, and we will have 
a dance afterwards and ride back by moonlight. There 
is nothing like tiring oneself out when one has nerves 
like you ! ' 

' Need I tell you,' said Prince P , who told 

me the story, ' that the programme was literally 
executed. I know the lady, she is alive now. It 
happened a good many years ago ; the child was a girl 
and she is married. The man is dead.' 

None in the town suspected the tragedy in those 
days. 

As I was driving past Santa Maria del Fiore one 
day, a small crowd pressing round the base of Giotto's 
tower attracted my attention. 

* Do not look ! ' said the friend who was with me, 
' somebody has again thrown themselves off the 
tower ! ' 

There is between the great church, clothed in its 
rich marbles, and the marvellous campanile which 
rises up like a flower, a Uttle space — perhaps thirty 
feet square — into which those who are sick of life 
always throw themselves down. 

' Have you ever heard the touching story attached 
to that spot ? ' asked my friend ; for it was my first 
winter in the mysterious city. 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 285 

' I will tell it you ' ; and we sat down on the stones 
where Dante used to sit when he spoke to the people. 

' It was the last day of Carnival late in the 
afternoon. The sky was a tender grey, and a warm 
south wind was blowing. The great bells of the 
Duomo were ringing in Lent. 

' That little space across there, but which is now 
hidden by the tower, was in the Middle Ages the 
burial place of one of the greatest families of this 
town. It was there that Ginevra degli Adhemari was 
laid when she was thought to be dead, and it were 
those selfsame marble flags upon which that poor 
wretch crushed himself to death an hour ago, that she 
lifted up to escape from her grave. The little street 
behind us is still called " Via della morte," for it was 
there that she met a man who, seeing her, screamed 
out " Oh la morte ! ecco la morte ! " as she was trying 
to reach the house of the man she had always loved.' 

* Oh, tell me all you know about it ! ' I cried, thrilled 
by the feeling that all this had happened on the very 
spot where we stood. 

* Ginevra degli Adhemari lived five hundred years 
ago. She was the daughter of a great house, and 
lovely. She had from her childhood been attached 
to a young noble, brave and handsome, but poor, and 
her parents decreed that she must marry a man twice 
her age, but very rich, whom she hated. 

' Young Folco, who had always worshipped the 
ground on which Ginevra trod, could not bear to see 



286 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

her misery, and went to Pisa, taking service with the 
Signory there. 

' After he had been there three years, he heard that 
the great plague had come to his native town, and he 
returned to take care of his old mother, who was in 
deep distress at his absence. 

' The first thing he heard was, that Ginevra, who 
had pined and sickened since her marriage, had just 
died of the dread disease, and had been buried at once 
by her terrified husband in the family vault. 

' He was sitting up the first night of his return, 
thinking of her whom he had loved so deeply and so 
long, and hoping that he too might die soon. 

' Suddenly he was startled by a faint whisper creep- 
ing through his open casement. It was like the rustle 
of dead leaves driven by the wind forming faintly 
his name. He rushed to the window and beheld just 
beneath him leaning against the closed door, white in 
the moonlight, Ginevra's wraith wrapped in grave- 
clothes. 

' " Oh, beloved and adored spirit ! " he called out. 
" Wait for me! " and flying downstairs he tore open 
the door to receive the real but fainting Ginevra in 
his arms. 

' He and his mother nursed and tended her till she 
got well and strong again. She told them that when 
she lay as dead in the vault the rays of the moon 
which trickled through the chinks of the ill-joined 
stones had aroused her from her faintness. She had 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 287 

crept off her bier — for in those days of panic the dead 
were never properly buried — and with infinite trouble 
she lifted a flag and hoisted herself up on the pave- 
ment. She dragged herself to her husband's house 
which was near S. Lorenzo, calling upon him to open 
the door. He heard, and answered from a window, 
showing every sign of terror : " Go back to your grave, 
you troubled spirit ! I will have a Mass said for your 
repose, but do not come near me any more." Sick, 
fainting, and despairing, Ginevra had then turned her 
steps towards the house of her early and faithful 
lover. The only man she met on her way fled from 
her in terror, and, abandoned and repulsed by all, she 
sought refuge in Folco's protecting arms. 

' When Ginevra had recovered her health and 
beauty, she and Folco sought out the Archbishop of the 
town, who had once been a Pope under the name of 
John the Twenty-second, and he declared that she, 
having been dead and buried, existed no more, and that 
the resuscitated Ginevra was free to marry the man 
who had loved her so faithfuUy. 

' The Archbishop himself pronounced the Bene- 
diction.' 

Who is this strange little bent figure which we 
perceive ambling along the sunny side of the street 
on a warm and windless day? A velvet skull-cap is 
set over his straggling white hair. A long grey beard 
covers the lower part of his face, and a shabby 



288 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

black cloth coat, lined with a ragged, reddish fur, 
descends to his feet. 

This man, whose name is now almost forgotten, 
was a painter, an archaeologist, and a scholar of no 
mean reputation. In pre- Victorian days he painted 
every young Court beauty, and was the friend of the 
best artists of the later Georgian era. It was he who 
discovered one of the finest and most pathetic frescoes 
in the chapel of the great public palace. It was 
the figure of the great seer and poet attired in the 
white, red, and green of young Italy — the colours 
so dreaded by the Princes who reigned at that time, 
and therefore chocolate was the hue substituted, until 
ten years later, after the revolution, it was submerged 
again by the tricolour. 

In the days when Mr. K discovered this fresco, 

it was not even allowed to tie up sweetmeats with red 
and green ribbons or ever to bring these tints into a 
lady's dress. 

We follow our tottering friend into an ancient 
house overhanging the river and close to the corner 
formed by the bridge with the jewellers' booths. We 
enter a very large room, square, except for one sharp 
and irregular corner — a habit indulged in by the builders 
of this country who believe it to be a protection against 
bad spirits. It has a raftered ceiling covered with 
cobwebs. The pattern of the tiled floor is indistin- 
guishable, so thickly is it overlaid with dirt and dust. 
Grey furry things shoot over it in the dusk. A pussy. 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 289 

velvet footed, rubs itself against the old man's legs. 
In one corner two large tortoises are having their tea 
on lettuce-leaves, and a dozen pigeons descend from 
the rafters to peck at the yellow maize which is 
liberally distributed all over the place. 

The walls are entirely lined with books in musty 
old bindings, and as we read the titles we note, with 
astonishment, that nearly all of them are caba- 
listic or spiritualistic works on necromancy, magic 
black and white — especially the former — records of 
wizards and witches, and volumes filled with secret 
recipes for poisoning or beautifying, for love philtres 
and life ehxirs, or the creating of homunculi, and 
suchlike. 

One of these books, I remember, was full of recipes 
composed by a monk — a certain Giovanni di Medici 
— and given as a wedding present to his cousin, 
Catherine di Medici. Among others there was the 
following recipe for turning the hair golden, far 
preferable to any of the known methods as it 
makes the hair grow thick and tinges it with an 
aureole, as if the setting sun were at its back. 
Here it is : — 

R. Mele rosato le mettelo dentro una storta che sia 
grande e accomodela dentro al fornello e dalli fuoco 
lento e si stillera aqua bianca e quando commincia 
a stillare aqua gialla muta recipiente e aumenta il 
fuoco fino a che non stilli piu e quest'ultima stillazione 
sara di color di rubino e bagnando i capelli con essa 
gli tinge in color di oro e gli fa crescere bellissimi e 

u 



290 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

lunghi. La prima acqua biaca lavandosi la faccia con 
essa la fa lustra e bella e conserva la carne che non si 
'inneschie mai. 

I fear even these recipes could not win back 
poor Catherine's truant Lord from the fascinating 
Diane, 

These occult books, perhaps the most precious 
collection of the kind ever made, were dispersed ten 
years later in a public sale and went for next to 
nothing. The world had forgotten their owner and 
had not yet taken the metaphysical and supersensuous 
turn of our latter days. 

In the deep embrasure of the window hangs a 
delicate pencil drawing of the head of the great 
Tuscan poet with his signature beneath it. The 
expression of the mouth especially has a sweetness 
so striking and pecuhar that it at once arrests our 
attention. 

* It was drawn by the spirits one night when I 
had left paper and pencil on the table,' we are informed, 
' and I only added the wreath of bays. I left it out 
another night, praying for the signature, and it 
came also.' The signature was beautifully written in 
clear gothic letters : ' Dante Allighieri.' Opposite 
this drawing hung a small sketch in oils — Paolo 
and Francesca, blown about in a whirlwind of clouds. 
The tones were all in tender greys and blues ; Francesca's 
slender and misty figure lay half fainting in Paolo's 
protecting arms, but the feeling of the ' eternally 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 291 

driven ' made it into one of the most poignantly 
pathetic records of that pathetic couple. 

The tinkle of the doorbell brings us back to this 
sublunary world ; and, ushered in by the solitary servant, 
two young and beautiful women enter, whose appear- 
ance seems singularly out of place within these precincts. 
They are dressed in the height of Parisian fashion, 
and a practised eye at once recognises on their graceful 
heads the creations of Virot, and appreciates that 
their light summer dresses are the masterpieces of 
Worth — those two famous artists of the last years 
of the second Empire. 

As they advance towards the table which stands 
in the middle of the room, one of them gives a little 
shriek as a rabbit skipping across her feet gets entangled 
in the laces of her dress, and the other one quickly 
ducks her head as a pigeon and a parrot nearly meet 
on her pretty feathered hat. These ladies are evidently 
foreigners and belong to the official circle which, 
during the short years that the mysterious city was 
the capital of a great country, lent it an ephemeral 
brilHancy. They are searchers of the occult 
and interested in the new phenomena, known by 
so few in those days. They have unearthed the 
forgotten old painter whose little adopted daughter, 
Gioia, is supposed to have great mediumnistic 
powers. 

Some weak tea in dusty cracked earthenware cups 
is set before the ladies and they are asked to drink in 



292 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

order to encourage the spirits. When this ceremony 
has been reluctantly performed Gioia, a child of twelve, 
draws near the table, and the maid-servant is called 
and sits down near the child. 

The maid is a most peculiar-looking woman, with 
a long oval face, deadly pale, and squinting eyes that 
are hardly ever raised. Her long yellow fingers are 
twisted in a ghastly way, and form a strange contrast 
to the lovely hands of the ladies as they lie side by 
side on the table. 

The room is nearly dark, and only the reflection 
of the afterglow on the river plays on the jewelled 
fingers of the ladies. 

We are told that Ursula, the maid, is an ex-nun 
from the * Sepolte vive ' (buried alive) ; that ill- 
treatment is the cause of her deformed hands, 
and that she was turned out of the convent in 
the revolution. The ladies shrewdly guess that 
some close tie unites the old wizard, the woman, 
and the child. 

The swish of the water against the basement of 
the house and the faint hum of the city alone break 
the silence. 

The jewellers put up the shutters before their 
booths below ; and a large white moon rises over the 
wooded ridges of Vallombrosa. 

* See the fluffy white rabbit in the moonlight ! ' 
the older lady says. * Oh, look ! ' whispers the 
other one; and out of the floor arises a filmy mist 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 293 

like a piece of white gauze held up by an invisible 
hand. 

And then another and another one rise like the 
flowers' ghosts in a marshy meadow at eventide. On 
every side the floor seems to open, and waves of mist 
grow out of every fissure. 

They sway to and fro and shape themselves into 
figures and wave their arms in slow cadence. They 
are unstable and intangible, only their eyes shine 
with the passions and sorrows of past lives. 

One stately presence floats towards the old man. 
It stands with folded arms, and its tender and 
melancholy gaze recalls the pencil drawing of the 
poet which hangs in the window. 

The misty figures multiply and press nearer to the 
table. 

The ladies shrink back, but the old man, the nun, 
and the child remain unmoved. The wizard points 
with his wizen finger to the darkest comer of the 
room, and there, floating and circling in mid air, faintly 
delineated, pressed in each other's arms, the ladies saw, 
or thought they saw, the figures of a man and woman. 

As the two ladies drive across the Jeweller's Bridge, 
one of them says : — 

' Is this the new science — the sixth sense which we 
are now to develop — or is it the old magicians' lore 
and the revival of long-forgotten secrets ? ' 

' It is both,' said the other one; 'and in future 
and not too distant days, the two will be united. 



294 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

not as black magic and a power for evil, but as white 
magic and for the good of the world.' 

A score of years later than the days I have been 
speaking of, I was back in the mysterious city. 

It was a capital no more, and had taken upon 
itself the quiet and reserved aspect of an old beauty 
that had given up the pleasures of the world. 

It was towards the end of May, and I was wandering 
with a friend — a writer of delightful stories — in the 
fields not distant from the villa where he spends some 
months in happy work each year. 

We were walking along wide grass-paths which, 
bordered by vine-draped trees, intersect the fields of 
corn and maize and the olive-yards, in the midst of 
which the villas with their gardens stand. 

We could see above the high box-hedges the 
crenellated tower and the roof of the long grey house. 

It had been a watch-tower in the days of the Goths 
and the Lombards, and the most imaginative of the 
new-world writers had composed his most fantastic 
and romantic novel under its shadow. 

The green corn stood high all around us, and the 
warm scent of the blossoming vine was upon the air. 

We saw coming to meet us along the path which 
led to the peasant's house a little old woman with a 
bright purple kerchief tied over her white hair. 

It was Sunday, and she was dressed in her best, 
and held a Mass Book in her hand. 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 295 

' You read without spectacles ! I congratulate you ! ' 
my friend said. 

' Si Signore ! ' she answered, ' I used to have some 
glasses, and when I was ninety I broke them, and 
that is six or seven years ago, and I find I do not want 
them now.' 

And then she told us that she was the mother of 
the old man, who tilled all the land around with his 
children and grandchildren — a numerous clan. She 
had always lived in the white house with the cool arches 
and paved threshing-ground in front of it. She 
remembered the terrible wars when she was a child, 
and how the tyrant with his legions perished in the 
northern snows, and then at last after more horrors 
and terrors the world was ridded of him and he was 
shut up on an island. 

She was well and happy, but had only been twice 
to the beautiful city, which lay but a mile away on the 
other side of the httle medieval piazza which crowns 
the olive-shaded heights. 

As she was talking, the sound of young voices came 
to our ears ; and out of another grassy avenue about 
fifty paces ahead a little procession appeared amidst 
the green and sturdy com. 

First, walked a lady, tall, long-limbed, and sHm — 
almost a girl. In her crown of copper-coloured hair 
scintillated a large butterfly of precious many-coloured 
stones. Her small head was poised on a wide and 
statuesque throat, her arms and shoulders were bare, 



296 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

and a flashing gem on her breast held together a 
shimmering silvery scarf over a traihng rose-coloured 
dress, which appeared rosier still in the level rays of 
the setting sun. Rose-coloured slippers, embroidered 
in gold and pale-green stones, pressed lightly on the 
carpet of daisies, and the folds of her long satin dress 
brushed against the buttercups and ragged robins 
in the grass. She holds by one hand a fair clear-eyed 
boy dressed all in white. He chatters in a northern 
language to his young mother. 

A little space behind them walks a tall man in the 
irreproachable garb of the upper British servant of a 
great house, carrying a large key, and by his side a 
handsome dark-eyed woman, in white cap and apron, 
holds in her arms a smaller child and coos to it in the 
dulcet accent of the country. 

We watch them walking on to a small postern door 
in the high grey wall which encircles the podere. 

The servant unlocks it and we perceive that it 
leads into a lane bordered on the other side by a 
convent ending in a small chapel. The convent has 
no windows below the first story, and these are barred 
and shuttered in such a way that the nuns can only 
look heavenward and never by any chance catch a 
glimpse of who passes in the country lane. 

Beyond the convent, already wrapt in the evening 
shade, lay the towers and palaces, the churches and 
campaniles of the mysterious city. 

The young mother turns at the door and stoops 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 297 

to kiss her children. The little boy clings to her dress 
and wants to come with her to protect her, he says ; 
but she tells him gently that this is impossible, as she 
dines at some neighbouring villa. She draws together 
her shimmering garments and steps out into the 
darkling lane followed by the solemn servant. The 
old woman was still standing beside us, and I asked 
her who the lady was, but she said she knew not her 
name, but that she was the wife of some great inilordo 
who had taken the villa with the watch-tower for a 
month or two, because when the lady was a child she 
had lived in the mysterious city, and whenever the 
month of May came round she longed for the flowers 
and the sun. 

' What a strange and lovely vision ! ' said the 
novelist ; ' and this is the only spot in the world where 
one could come across it in such surroundings.' 

The western declivities of the hill, upon which 
the villa with the watch-tower stands, are in the spring 
curtained with a wealth of blossom, white and red, 
amongst which the silver olive almost disappears. 

Many smaller villas nestle there in rural solitude as 
if they were a hundred miles away from any town. 

In one of these villas lived an artist with his family, 
his wife and married sons and daughters with their 
children. They were all of them highly educated, 
refined, and gentle people, devoted to music and 
painting, and keeping much to themselves. I knew, 



298 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

however, that humble and pious as they were, they 
had independent and Hberal ideas in religion and were 
befriended with some of the most eminent thinkers 
and pioneers of a more spiritual faith. 

One cold winter, the artist's wife, the mother and 
grandmother, a woman bright, intelligent and energetic 
though almost eighty, went to sleep peacefully. I 
heard that a Mass was to be said for her at a village 
church not far from the house where she had passed 
her happy and peaceful life. 

It was on a bright and crisp January morning, 
quite early, that I bent my steps through the olive- 
groves, down the narrow steep lane where in March 
the scarlet poppies nod over the high walls, down 
to the sunlit plain, and again a narrow path which 
leads to the steps that encircle a quaint foun- 
tain and land us on the great sunny grassplot 
where stands the little church on the summit of 
a knoll. 

Some young peasants were sitting on the low waU 
which borders the smooth lawn around the church, 
and I stopped a moment to gaze down the wide valley 
closed in the distance by the great marble alps which 
glistened in the morning sun. 

Unwillingly, I turned from the bright landscape 
to enter the church, which I thought, according to the 
habit of the country, would be all draped in black. 

I held my breath for an instant as I pushed aside 
the leather curtain, as a flood of soft and brilliant 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 299 

light, a glory of colour, and the scent of many flowers 
met my senses. 

The church was almost empty ; only a few peasant 
women knelt on the bay-strewn floor, and a little 
nearer the altar I saw a small group of persons clad 
in black. 

The high altar appeared to me like a flight of 
lights and flowers towards heaven. Every one of 
the many white and crimson wax candles was sur- 
rounded with what seemed bunches of growing 
narcissi, and higher still great sprays of pink roses 
crept up to the gold and crimson draperies which 
fell from the ceiling. 

The side altars also were full of light and flowers, 
and the great candelabras in the nave were shrouded 
in tall olive-branches which mingled picturesquely 
with the chains of glittering crystals which hung 
around them. 

The marble balustrade around the altar was a bed 
of violets and daffodils with the morning dew still 
on them. 

At the altar a tall young priest, in gold and crimson, 
officiated in a simple and dignified way, and four 
other priests in red and white assisted him. A 
feeling of peace and happiness stole over me, and I felt 
respect and admiration for these humble law-abiding 
people, who had the courage to go against all usages 
and traditions of their country and gave expression 
to their own feelings and beliefs. 



300 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

As I stepped out into the golden sunlight again, 
the daughter followed me, and said : — 

'You understand, do you not, that for our dear 
mother who was so good, so strong, so pure, we cannot 
mourn sadly ? A festival of light and flowers is what 
must accompany her dear soul to heaven.' 

One fresh and sunny morning I knock at my 
friend's door. He lives in the villa where Owen 
Meredith wrote his ' Good Night in the Porch,' when 
he was scarcely more than a boy. 

* Would you hke to go and see the villa which 
Mrs. Browning describes in " Aurora Leigh"? It is 
close by here, but you would never guess at its ex- 
istence. Ten years ago, I remember Clare Claremont 
living there in two rooms all by herself. She was 
a daily governess then, and none of her pupils knew 
that she was the mother of Allegra.' 

We went along a winding road and entered by an 
old iron gate on to a vast grass-covered piazzale, and so 
suddenly and steeply does the ground fall off that one 
almost has the feeling of floating in the air. 

The house stands fantastically aloof from every- 
thing, and from its terraces the eye roves over 
mountains and valleys a hundred miles apart. 

The mysterious city lies spread out below like a 
preciously woven carpet, and all the riches of that 
beauteous land enthrall the soul and eyes. A great 
square tower rears itself up out of tangles of lilies 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 301 

and roses into the serene blues of the summer skies 
and in winter disappears in sun-tinted mists, which 
rise white and chill from the river-shore. 

Many pathetic figures have paced up and down 
beneath this tower. It was owned by a patriot and 
poet, exiled by the popular faction, and he stood here 
conversing with his best and most trusted friend, 
the mystic singer whose glory will never fade. 

Out of that window in the tower chamber, a girl — 
almost a child — gazes anxiously. Her great black eyes 
contrast curiously with the masses of very fair hair 
which frames her small white face. She is to be 
married shortly to the son of the powerful noble 
who owns the greatest and the most splendid palace in 
the town. But this man is vicious, a bore, and almost 
an idiot ; and she loves a boy tall and strong, of high 
bearing with flashing blue eyes and a ring of courage 
in his voice ; but, alas ! he is poor and a nameless 
offshoot of the family she is to enter. 

' I must go, my beloved one,' he whispers to the 
girl as he stands on a dark night below her barred 
and grated window. ' I must go to the wars ; but 
let Padre Anselmo bless us before I go. You can 
resist the wishes of your parents till I return covered 
with glory, and then you can divulge to them that 
you are my wife and we shall be happy.' 

In the white and chilly dawn these two stood before 
the altar of the little church among the cypresses, and 
in the midday sun she saw him caracoling on his white 



302 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

charger, with the crimson trappings, down the walled 
road which led to the gate of the town. 

It was the bonny month of May, and battles were 
won and lost ; but the blue-eyed boy never returned. 

It is Christmas-time when we enter the tower 
chamber. Low and uneven arches support the 
vaulted ceiling. A double oaken door with heavy 
locks alone gives access to this prisonhke room. 

The girl, who was a rose in May, now lies like a 
broken lily on a pallet bed, and in her arms is clasped 
a wailing babe. 

A handsome dark-browed woman enters the room 
locking the door after her. ' We must put an end to 
this,' she says ; ' your father returns to-night and 
he could never keep the secret ; besides, the child's 
cry might be heard by the serving-men he brings ; 
the danger is too great,' 

With this she snatches the whimpering babe from 
her daughter's arms, and with strong deft hands she 
draws a silken cord around its throat and twists it 
tightly upwards. Only a slight gurgling sound is 
heard, and the young mother groans. 

In the garden court, under a stone flag overhung 
by a bush of blue rosemary, the babe is laid, and to 
this day it is called ' the grave of the child with the 
golden locks.' 

A hundred years later we view another scene. 

A lady sits trembling in the great withdrawing-room 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 303 

hung with red and gold sopra riso. Everything 
around her is rich and splendid. She is the daughter 
of an ancient house, but her hunchback husband is 
allied to the reigning Princes, which makes him powerful 
and his influence great. She trembles, because she 
knows that the man she loves has been bidden that 
very day to a great banquet by the wily Pietro de 
Rossi, and she is certain that he will attempt her 
lover's life. 

The hunchback, clad in black velvet and white 
satin, is at that moment arranging and rearranging the 
flasks of sparkling wine which stand upon the festive 
board which has been set surrounded by orange- and 
lemon-trees within the garden loggia. He shakes a 
white powder into the golden cup which stands 
at the place of honour and then rinses it out again, 
first with water and then with wine, so that nothing 
can be seen. But poisons in those days were 
subtle and strong, and that evening the young 

and handsome Prior of the great Badia of F , 

who entered Orders because the fair hostess of 
that evening was refused to him by a grasping 
father, lies on the white road which leads up to 
the Abbey with his still pale face bathed by the 
July moon. 

Though not so rich as Pietro de Rossi, he was a 
Prince of the reigning family, and the murder was not 
forgiven. 

Before the moon was full again the hunchback lay 



304 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

stabbed in the back, one stormy night in the long and 
narrow street of the ' Discontented Ones.' 

* Carina, carina ! ' called out the old nurse to the 
lady as she announced the husband's death. ' You 
need not live on raw eggs any more.' 

Outside the southern and eastern walls of the 
town, wooded knolls alternate with lovely green 
valleys. Two score years ago, only half a dozen 
neglected villas and two or three convents occupied 
those sites. 

Charles Lever lived in one of those villas and 
wrote some of his inimitable Irish stories there. 

At the present time, one of the most beautiful 
drives of the world has been created on this site by the 
exertions of one of the city's most prominent patriots. 
Hundreds of houses nestle on those gentle slopes 
amongst thickets of oleander and Oleas fragrans. 
Green-shuttered and jealously fenced in from the gaze 
of passers-by, these villas, though new or comparatively 
so, give an impression of extreme mystery. Nobody 
knows who lives in them, or, indeed, whether they are 
inhabited or not. Vaguely, you will hear it mentioned 
that a Russian Princess, very rich and past fifty, lives 
in one of them because she has run away with a barber. 
In another, a famous political character is supposed 
to hide himself from anarchists, whom he deserted 
after having been their leader for a long time. A 
little farther on is the deserted studio of a famous 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 305 

sculptor, long since dead, who electrified the world 
by the first tinted statue. Then at the end of one of 
the most withdrawn valleys in the midst of grass- 
fields and overshadowed by large limes, a young 
couple, but lately very well known in the most brilliant 
circles of a great capital, are supposed to live. She 
was the fair-haired and lovely wife of some northern 
Prince, and he the scion of a noble family of southern 
origin. The Prince, alas ! will not divorce, and the 
mysterious city draws its veil over the unpardonably 
happy pair. 

Let us intrude into one of the smallest and most 
neglected-looking of these houses, merely to see what 
surprises they offer. 

A shabby man-servant reluctantly opens the gate 
after much ringing. The usual expanse of rough 
shingle planted with conifers and oleanders faces the 
house. Some raised voices and the fumes of food 
fried in oil inform us that the kitchen lies to the left. 
To the right, in an arbour, we see two little boys — 
one of them a mere baby — having their evening meal 
under the auspices of a very prim-looking nursery 
governess. Only bread and milk is set before the 
children, although they are Princes of a royal 
house and a crown may one day rest upon the 
younger one's head. At the back of the house 
the ground rises steep and unexpectedly, and great 
flights of wide and stately steps lead up to what 
appears to be a dead wall with a closed porch in 



3o6 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

its centre. The indolent man-servant motions us to 
proceed, and we begin the ascent ; he follows at a 
distance dangling a key. 

The sun is setting and gilds the tips of the cypresses 
which stand on each side of the steps, whilst their 
lower part is already in deep shade. The man slowly 
inserts the great key into the rusty lock and pushes 
the door open with his shoulder. We pass and he 
bangs it to after us. We stand upon the rocky ledge 
of a stream and look across it far out into the country. 
A group of cypresses and some half-ruined masonry, 
the remains of some stately gatehouse, betray that 
this must once have formed a part of some princely 
domain. The scene is so surprising and unexpected 
that we do not at first notice the slender figure of a 
lady dressed all in white, sitting in the shadow of the 
rocks. Had she been hewn in stone and covered with 
lichens I should have thought her a meet statue for 
this mise en scene. She might have been the goddess 
of repose or a dryad watching the murmuring waters ; 
but her velvet brown eyes are not of stone, and 
her abundant cendre hair lies soft and silky on her 
shoulders. A large star sapphire fastens her soft 
and spotless draperies on her breast. A book of 
sonnets rests open on her knee, and a guitar lies on 
the grass beside her. 

She is the mother of the boys, and is seeking 
consolation and oblivion in the territory of the city 
' where none inquires.' 



THE MYSTERIOUS CriT 307 

A great villa, almost a fortress, stands on the slopes 
of the mountains only three miles from the city, on 
the road where Romola met Savonarola on that 
sultry summer's day. In the Middle Ages this castle 
frowned down with its battlements as a perpetual 
menace on the mysterious city, for it held one of the 
northern mountain passes and could at any time 
have flooded the emerald cup of the valley with 
enemies from the vast plains which stretch to the 
foothills of the Alps, 

Less than three centuries ago a gay young noble, 
the head of an illustrious race, lived within these 
gigantic walls. He was handsome and skilled in all 
courtly arts. His consort was the daughter of a 
powerful and reigning house. She was much older 
than her husband and her masculine features marked 
the difference still more. 

This great lady had a soul of fire and a will of iron. 
Jealousy preyed upon her spirit like a vulture. 

Her young husband whiled away his time with the 
chase and masquerades. He instructed his falcons 
and ordered himself fine clothes, to which latter 
pursuit the jeunesse doree of the mysterious city are 
very partial even now. 

About a decade after their marriage, the Duchess 
Veronica, who was now nearing forty, heard through 
one of her spies that her young spouse was in the habit 
of visiting a house in the street of the almonds — a 
lonely district surrounded by gardens and vineyards— 

X 2 



3o8 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

and that in this house lived a beautiful girl called 
Caterina, a weaver of fine laces. The lady's resolution 
was soon taken. She instructed her confidential 
tiring-woman to get at once as many yards of the 
finest holland linen as would make twelve shirts, and 
to buy from Caterina all the lace she had and trim the 
shirts with it. The work must be done within the next 
ten days for the Duke's birthday, as she wished to 
present the shirts to him. He should have a birthday 
gift so beautiful as he had never had before. The 
morning of the auspicious day dawned and a page 
entered the Duke's room obedient to his call. 

The boy bore in his arms a basket covered with a 
cloth of blood-red Genoese velvet, and, setting it down 
by the Duke's bed, said : — 

' Greetings from her Excellency the Duchess ; and 
knowing how much her noble spouse values fine laces, 
she sends this dozen of fine holland shirts trimmed 
with the best laces she could find as a birthday present, 
and hopes that this year may continue as happily for 
your Excellency as it has begun.' 

The Duke, pleased and astonished at so infrequent 
a mark of attention, threw back the velvet cover and 
looked admiringly at the fine linen and precious laces 
it had hidden. 

Daintily he Hfted up one of the shirts, intending to 
wear it that very day in recognition of his wife's kind- 
ness ; but as he did so, a long wisp of soft golden hair 
curled round his fingers. He looked down astonished. 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 309 

and his eyes assumed a stare of horror as he noticed a 
spot of crimson blood filtering through the laces. 

His mind, paralysed by terror, had lost all control 
over his movements, and violently with both hands 
he tore away the contents of the basket, scattering 
them through the whole room. 

At the bottom of the basket lay the beautiful head 
of Caterina ! The Duke had loved her not only for her 
surpassing loveliness, but for her gentle and affectionate 
nature, which had been his solace from the stern and 
imperious society of his Duchess. 

A wreath of golden curls lay around the small pale 
face like a halo, and the transparent lids were only half 
closed over the dark blue eyes. Turned to stone 
with grief and horror, history says that the Duke 
never saw his wife again. 

Gayer thoughts are, however, conjured up by the 
remembrance of this stately villa some forty years ago. 

During the short years when the mysterious city 
was a capital, two artists of world-wide renown dwelt 
there. 

The gayest of the gay went in and out of the wide- 
open portals and were hospitably feasted within the 
great hall. 

The walls were covered with pictures and huge 
mirrors framed in brightest gold. The costly furniture 
recalled the most brilliant days of the second Empire. 

The master of this sumptuous home had been 



310 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

worshipped throughout Europe not only for his 
matchless voice, but also for his charm, his good looks, 
his great air, for he was a scion of an impoverished 
but noble family. He had been a young and im- 
pecunious soldier when the impresario of a great 
opera heard him by chance singing, as he was bathing 
in a river in northern Italy, and called out to him, 
saying :— 

* Throw up the army and come v/ith me ; everj^ 
note in your throat is worth a piece of gold.' 

And mountains of gold he had amassed together 
with the lady of the house. 

She looked as if Norma's wreath of oak-leaves 
must always crown her classic brow ; and her splendid, 
full, and yet so mellow, voice will still be remembered 
by some. 

In those days only the three pretty little daughters 
— nicknamed by the ever-wagging sharp tongues of the 
mysterious city, sometimes ' marionettes ' and some- 
times 'grisettes,' in allusion to their respective parents 
— used to warble songs Hke so many birds, for the 
delectation of their mother's guests. 

Every night they could be seen sitting all three 
in a row on two chairs in their mother's opera-box. 

In the morning, Norma used regularly to shop on the 
Jeweller's Bridge and regally dispense her money and 
the presents she had bought with it. 

Sometimes when guests bidden to a sumptuous 
feast arrived, they were amused to find that, except 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 311 

their hosts, not a soul was within the walls of the great 
villa, as every single servant had departed an hour 
before, scared by the tragic anger of the great prima 
donna. 

Such little contretemps, however, did not affect 
the souls of great artists, and life went well and merrily 
at the great house until the sad day when all was broken 
up by the sudden death of the lady, and the luxurious 
furniture, the plate, the jewels, were hastily sold for 
a mere song and the villa stood lonely and forgotten 
through many decades, passing from hand to hand, 
till the great earthquake almost gutted it, and its 
owner, a very old lady, whose husband had served 
in foreign capitals under a legitimist, Orleanist, and 
Imperial Government, and who had withdrawn after 
the anee terrible, scared by what appeared to him 
the monster republic, had settled in the peaceful 
shadow of the great eaves. 

The earthquake, however, appeared even more full 
of terrors than the Republic, and so the lady fled back 
to Paris, never to return. 

A lovely walk through a green valley and along 
a pine-clad hillside takes us to another great villa 
where, at the time I have been speaking of, the favourite 
daughter of an Emperor lived with the man she loved, 
or had loved, and the child she adored. 

This Princess was still very handsome, and she 
had always been witty and original. 

The southern slope upon which her house stood 



312 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

was the last spur of the great mountain which stands 
out so imposingly over the long green valley. The 
house was absolutely lined with gobelins and heated 
up to the temperature of an orchid-house. 

In the daytime the Princess walked in faultlessly 
fitting dust-coloured garments along the white roads 
on the sunny mountain side, followed by a splendidly 
horsed English carriage and servants in Imperial 
liveries. At night she drove through dark and lonely 
lanes to the mysterious city to gamble and sup with 
some of her brother's subjects. 

The little daughter led a lonely life, for her father 
was not royal, and her Imperial cousins looked askance 
at her. A kind but circumscribed English nurse was 
her only companion. 

This child's greatest happiness consisted in being 
allowed to drive to a neighbouring villa, a real Medicean 
one, in which a dear old fairy lived who tried to make 
everybody happy. 

The little girl brought a silver hatterie de cuisine 
with her and cooked her dinner on the fairy's kitchen 
range. 

This range was never used at other times, for the 
fairy being a fairy did not live as we humans do. 
She did not sleep in a bed, but simply on a kind of big 
portfolio laid on the floor, and she averred that in the 
morning she and her big dog jumped into the fountain 
together and then shook themselves, and then they 
had some bread and figs and that was quite enough. 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 313 

One fine morning, the little countess — for it was 
thus that she was styled — visited the fairy, and said to 
her : — 

' I will tell you a secret if you promise not to 
repeat it.' 

The fairy of course promised, and also kept it 
many years till it mattered no more. 

' To-day is mamma's birthday, and so she permits 
me to open her telegrams, and there was one from the 
Emperor Napoleon congratulating her, and it ended 
by saying : " Cette annee nous aurons la guerre ! " ' 

This was on the seventh of January 1870 ! 

Another story the fairy told me was this one. 

We were looking down from the terrace upon the 
roof of a fine square villa now a convent, and she said : — 

' That is the villa where Bianca Capello lived, and 

it belonged to Count S in the beginning of the 

century. His daughter Augusta was a great friend 
of mine and told me that when she was a child she 
was playing at ball with some other children and that 
when they threw the ball against a certain part of the 
wall it sounded hollow. 

' Count S had that part of the wall knocked 

down, and in a recess they found a large red velvet 
dressing-case all lined with white satin, absolutely 
fresh, and furnished with beautiful white-and-gold 
Venetian glass, with Bianca Capello's cypher upon it.' 

My old fairy lives now — for fairies never die — and 



314 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

she is as bright, lively, and amusing as ever. She still 
adheres to the fashions of the novels of Thackeray 
and Dickens, and wears a crinoline, the amplitude of 
which now strikes us as something oddly romantic, 
in some of the early Rossetti's and Burne Jones's, and 
arrests our imaginations as exotic and uncannily 
seductive in the decadent pen-and-inks of Aubrey 
Beardsley. 

Whatever happens this fairy of ours will always 
keep her place in the hearts of her many friends, and 
will ever be alive and present to them. 

On our way back from the fairy, we passed many 
ancient houses and towers and loggias, every one of 
which might have been the scene of one of Boccaccio's 
tales. They lie within high walls, and only a half- 
open gate now and then allows us a glance along 
grass-paths between vines, ending in the deep shade 
of secular trees. The ground in winter here is almost 
marshy, and in summer the white dust lies many 
inches deep, and that is why that district is called 
' In via polverosa.' 

Very suddenly, we stand in a dark and narrow lane 
before a long low house with many cupolas. It is 
backed by tall trees. The whole building on this side 
seems to consist of a dead wall, but whichever side 
we tried to enter on, it always seemed to be the wrong 
one, and the object of our search retired before us 
like a mirage. 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 315 

We had vaguely heard that the eccentric lady 
who now owns the palace and inhabits it for seven 
days every two or three years, never during her stay 
leaves her couch, which she shares with several giant 
wolf-hounds. She terrifies the neighbourhood, who 
look upon her as a witch and a magician to be feared, 
but not loved. 

Somewhat more than half a century ago, the sound 
of revelry never ceased within these now so empty 
and forsaken halls. 

A Prince, who drew his fabulous wealth from 
the mines of a savage and quite unexhausted 
country, had collected here everything that art and 
luxury could yield and that money could buy. His 
wife, the beautiful and witty descendant of a new but 
Imperial house, attracted around her whatever the 
international society of that day could offer of its best. 
Men and women of the smartest and also the most 
intellectual set of several capitals met there. States- 
men, artists, writers, poets, and wits were all received 
with equal graciousness by the mistress of the house. 

Great winter-gardens — a novelty almost unknown 
in those days — extended from both wings of the palace. 
The floors of all the rooms were of precious marbles 
and covered with carpets of velvet pile as thick as moss. 
The tables were of jasper, malachite, and amethyst, 
and rich embroideries and brocades, half hidden by a 
mass of priceless pictures, covered the walls. 

One of these pictures, which used to strike the 



3i6 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

imagination of the young, was Delaroche's execution of 
Mary, Queen of Scots. It was, I believe, painted for 
a wager, to show that it was possible to produce an 
impressive picture without a single eye in it. 

The Queen's eyes are bandaged, and the executioner 
is stooping down with his eyes averted. The priest, 
who has just pronounced his blessing, has both his 
eyes closed, and the two women in the background 
are weeping on each other's shoulders. 

A small pink saucer was one day thrust into my 
hand as I was looking at some rare china the house 
contained. It was quite plain except for a little white 
medallion representing two little cupids in sepia. I 
could see no particular merit in it, but I was told that 
it was Rose Dubarry and had just been valued at a 
thousand pounds ! 

The nabob Prince was followed in the villa by his 
son or his nephew. He had a pale and beautiful young 
wife; she was very delicate and only every now and 
then people caught sight of her large glowing eyes and 
a sombre parure of magnificent sapphires, behind the 
red silk curtains of her opera-box. The Prince, her 
husband, used on the contrary to lean forward 
holding in his straw-coloured irreproachably gloved 
hands — the fashion of the day — a black opera-glass 
set with one huge yellow diamond. 

In little more than a year the young wife had 
faded away, and for the last forty years the grass has 
sprouted upon the gravel paths. The trees have 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 317 

grown up with a wilderness of underwood beneath 
them, the rooms of the palace are empty, and through 
the broken windows the summer sun shines, and 
winter rains sweep across the marble floors. A casual 
passer-by does not even suspect where the stately 
gates once opened to the elite of European society, 
so thickly are they overgrown with brushwood and 
rampant creepers. ' Sic transit gloria mundi ! ' 

One day in early spring, as I was wandering with 
my friend in that fruitful plain which extends like a 
garden of blossoms along the southern margin of the 
river, we came to an ancient stone portal over which 
two cypresses stood sentinel with their feet in the 
earth and their heads in the clouds. 

' Here,' my friend said, ' lived during the days of 
the Capital, one of the most charming, the most 
distinguished and clever men I ever met. Let us go 
in, and you will see how picturesque his retreat was.' 

As we approached the house — I should almost call 
it the hold — it appeared to me to be quite a ruin 
covered with ivy and roses ; but on turning the 
corner, I noticed that one wing was still inhabited. 
It was an old and hoary fortress with two low square 
towers, and its birth must date back to the dark and 
tumultuous days of northern invasions into these 
sunny climes. 

At present the grounds in the vicinity of the house 
are planted with exotic shrubs and flowers, as the 



3i8 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

owner is an enthusiast and an expert on sub-tropical 
vegetation. 

' I often used to walk out here in those days,' my 

friend said, 'to see Sir J. H . He was a most 

remarkable man, and it was impossible to know him 
without loving him. Nobody really knew exactly who 
he was, and I have heard it said that he came of semi- 
royal descent. He was certainly one of the handsomest 
and most dignified-looking men, and his features re- 
called those of the first gentlemen of Europe, at the 
time he was at his very best. He soon rose in his 
career to the highest honours, and was the trusted 
friend of kings and statesmen, and this country owes 
to him in a large degree its present unity. Then, 
suddenly, at the most brilliant moment of his career, 
some misunderstanding, which has never been cleared 
up, arose between him and his chief, and he resigned 
and came to live here at this lonely villa. His many 
friends were deeply hurt at what they considered this 
unjust treatment; but he had so many resources in 
himself that time never hung heavy on his hands. 
He was a poet, a writer, and a painter, and interested 
in all he saw. Though hardly even his most intimate 
friends suspected it, he did not live quite alone at the 
villa. In the days of his official life he had admired 
a very beautiful and cultured woman who was linked 
to a man, cruel and ferocious, as this country still 
sometimes produces. 

' When H resigned his position, the lady fled 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 319 

from her husband and put herself under his protection, 
but never by word or sign did he make allusion to 
her presence. Once only, when I entered his room 
unannounced, did I detect a symptom of a lady's 
presence in the house. It was a small work-basket, 
forgotten, on the table. 

' Do you see how absolutely a brilliant public life 
can be hidden and buried in this loneliest of places ? 
Though barely a few miles from town, only the 
neighbouring peasants know how to thread this maze 
of narrow country lanes. So there he lived, a man who 
for twenty years more might have swayed the fortunes 
of nations.' 

On our way back to town we passed Lever's house. 
My friend had known him also, and all his jolly house- 
hold, and said that one day when he was staying with 
him at San Terenzio they went for a sail on the gulf of 
Spezia, and as they got to about the middle of the bay 
one of the daughters casually remarked, ' Can you 
swim ? for we are going to swamp the boat ! ' No 
sooner said than done, and the whole party had to 
swim home. 

Arising amongst the low hills which give the 
country its richest and choicest vintage, the green and 
silent waters of the Greve gently circle around the 
cypress-clothed rock which is crowned by the great 
Carthusian monastery. They then wander for a 
couple of miles through a green and sheltered valley 



320 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

before uniting themselves to the great river, to flow 
with it into the bhie waters of the Tyrrhenean 
sea. 

The gentle declivities of the narrow valley, which 
takes its name from the Greve, are covered on one side 
with copses of young oaks and knots of cypresses. In 
these woods, under bushes of tall Mediterranean heath, 
we find the slender star of Bethlehem, the pink orchis, 
the cuckoo-flower, and the dark-blue burridge. 

On the other side of the stream the hills face straight 
to the south and are swathed in blossom from February 
to May. Below the fruit-trees, the ground is spread 
first with a cloth of golden aconite, then little by httle 
it is embroidered by the delicate wind-flower and the 
great anemones in their triumphant scarlet, violet, and 
purple, their flashing pink and soft grey-blue. These 
are in their turn displaced by tulips of every hue, the 
tall crimson ones, the frail lemon-coloured, and those 
white and red striped, which put one in mind of the pari- 
coloured hose of the gilded youths in the old masters' 
pictures ; indeed, those flower-fields in the spring recall 
Ghirlandajo's and Piero di Cosimo's brightest creations. 
A few rather decayed-looking villas and farm-houses, 
with buttress and tower, are set on these slopes, where 
no breath of winter ever blows. They are surrounded 
by overgrown and tangled gardens of rosemary, 
lavender, and myrtle. The roses which creep over 
their walls are never checked by frost or cold. No 
carriage-road leads up to them, and they can only be 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 321 

reached by steep and narrow paths which serpentine 
between high walls and olive-yards. Those who 
could gain an entrance to the jealously closed gates 
would be astonished to find in some of them 
beauty, art, and refinement — even luxury — and men 
and women whose names were once in everybody's 
mouth and who held brilliant places in society. They 
have carried with them to this hidden nook the great 
woes and sometimes the great happinesses which have 
driven them away from mankind. 

As I was musing over the strangeness of destiny — 
for I had known some of these self-made outlaws in 
fomier days — ^my friend recalled me to the present 
time. 

' Do you see that great villa at the end of the vaUey ? 
That is where Ouida lived for fourteen years.' 

I followed the direction indicated with my eyes, 
along the stream bordered by slender pollard poplars 
exactly like those in Corot's masterpieces. I saw, 
almost hidden by a bouquet of tall trees, the roof of 
a large house. 

' I knew Ouida intimately, and for many years. 
She was always surrounded by a great troop of yap- 
ping dogs. They were nearly all of them white, 
but she would pick up any mongrel in the street. 
She was generally dressed in trailing white silks and 
laces, though in her younger days she spent great sums 
upon " confections " she ordered from Worth, who was 
then at his best. Her old mother she always clothed 



322 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

in rich black garments as a contrast. Her father was a 
Frenchman, and I think he taught at the young ladies' 
school in England where her mother was a teacher. 
Ouida never knew whether he was dead or alive, as 
he belonged to many secret societies, and the last 
she saw of him was when one day, shortly after having 
published her first novel, " Idalia," she was sitting 
on a bench in Kensington Gardens, he suddenly 
appeared out of the bushes and congratulated her 
on her achievement. 

' She said she was sixteen then, and she never saw 
him afterwards. 

' It was here she wrote many of her novels and the 
" Village Commune," which are those houses you see 
there beyond the stream. 

' Ouida certainly was a genius ; she had a power of 
language, a love of nature, and, above all, a flair for 
couleur locale almost unequalled. 

' If you consider that she wrote " Pascarel " when 
she had been but three weeks in Italy, you must 
confess that the achievement is only second to B5n:on's 
lines on the Dying Gladiator, after having seen it for 
the first time. Ouida was extravagant, generous, 
insolent, ungrateful, unreasonable, and revengeful, 
but she was tender to animals and to the poor. I 
think that the secret of her bitterness lay in her 
exceeding lack of charm and her plainness, which a 
woman with her intense love of beauty must have 
felt very deeply. She had not even the compensating 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 323 

quality of a lovely voice. She was very proud of her 
small hands and feet, but they were small in excess, 
and made her face look heavy. Her only good feature 
were large dark blue eyes. She used to wear her hair 
hanging down her back long after she was quite middle 
aged. Her conversation was not witty, as she was so 
often aggrieved or sentimental. She did not like 
women as a rule and only made very few exceptions, 
either on account of their beauty, position, or clever- 
ness. She had no sense of proportion or any know- 
ledge of the world, except in her books. She has 
described the mysterious city as no writer has ever 
done, for she loved the very stones of it and under- 
stood their language.' 

As my friend finished speaking, we stood before the 
iron gates of the villa. It has been uninhabited ever 
since Ouida left it, and the owner appears to continue 
her system, which was never to allow even a branch to 
be lopped off. The sleeping beauty could not have slept 
in a more unapproachable palace. I sighed, for one 
always feels sad in a place orphaned of great or lovely 
thoughts. 

If anybody were for a whole year to wander around 
the mysterious city and visit a villa every day, there 
would still be just as many left which they had not 
seen, and about which they could discover nothing, 
and they are sure to have stories just as strange and 
thrilling as their walls are picturesque and suggestive. 



324 SCENES AND MEMORIES 

The contadinis, whom you may question, will generally 
say that they do not know the names of the people 
who live within those silent houses, but that they 
believe that they are forestieri, and they are not 
sure they are Christians. 

Sometimes in our peregrinations I wished that the 
little owls which nestled under the wide eaves and 
the rubbish which had accumulated before the entrance 
door had been left undisturbed, for modem taste 
backed by easily acquired money is often violent and 
subversive. 

Old villas are turned into houses that look Uke a 
Riviera hotel, or the suburban residence of a Semitic 
magnate. Ancient grass-clad terraces, overshadowed 
by semicircles of secular cypresses, are desecrated 
by banal conceits in stone, out of keeping with 
the mellow harmony of the past ; but, on the whole, 
the ephemeral and mysterious society offers a harvest 
of beauty, originality, and especially of imprevu, to 
the mind as well as to the eye, unattained by any 
other place. 

Those whose names have been wiped off the register 
of the great world and who have sunk into the golden 
misty oblivion of the mysterious city, can be counted 
by hundreds and thousands; but even were their 
numbers doubled, they still would find countless 
portals open within which they can create for them- 
selves a paradise of surpassing beauty, and a life 
of work or contemplation in which they can find 



THE MYSTERIOUS CITY 325 

the peace and forgetfulness which, to storm-tossed 
wounded souls, means the nearest approach to 
happiness they can hope for on this side of the 
stream which divides them from the fields of pink 
asphodel. 



THE END 



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